


Siria Potter-Black and the Order of the Phoenix

by chamberinmyheart



Series: Siria Potter [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cassius Warrington Lives, F/F, F/M, M/M, Slytherin Triwizard Tournament Champion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-06-30 16:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 42
Words: 122,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamberinmyheart/pseuds/chamberinmyheart
Summary: Siria Potter-Black returns for her 5th year at Hogwarts, & Cassius Warrington returns for his final year. How will the two fair against the Ministry appointed Hogwarts Inquisitor? With tensions outside the castle heating up between those that believe Voldemort has returned & those that cannot, & all eyes on her, will Siria melt in the flames or rise like a phoenix? [Updates twice a week]





	1. The Drive

**The Drive**   


The hottest day of summer so far was just heating up. Privet Drive had seldom looked so discolored. Its usually polished, spotless cars were dusty from the lack of washing. The flowerbeds were wilting. A drought caused a ban on housepipes and the ban was scheduled through the end of summer. Windows had been opened to catch a nonexistent breeze and people had shuttered themselves inside. There was just one person outside; a teenage girl, who sat on the doorstep of Number Four Privet Drive with her trunk. [B5, 1]  
The girl had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who grew a lot very quickly (B5, 1). Her messy black hair was stuffed through a black baseball cap with a silhouetted wolf and a crescent moon embroidered on it. She worn a knee-high, navy dress with a lace back, and a black jacket with several pockets and a very stiff front. The back of her jacket had the same silhouette as her baseball cap. Around her bright green eyes, her midnight blue eyeliner was smudged into her eyeshadow, in an attempt to blend them. Siria Potter-Black looked to her watch, then her phone, then back to her laptop screen.  
She sighed and continued to type away into the spreadsheet on the screen. Siria stole glances to her watch, which was not like a usual watch. The silver watch had three hands, but the second hand was frozen in place. It was also the most decorated part of the watch. While the watch itself was a simple silver band with a plain face, someone had detailed the thin, second hand to look like a rune covered wand. Siria sighed at the hand, frozen at five o’clock.  
Number Four’s front door creaked open. Dudley Dursley, Siria’s cousin, snuck onto the front porch. Like his father, Dudley was a vast, red faced boy of very little neck. He had his mother’s blonde hair and height. As Uncle Vernon boasted to everyone, Dudley had earned the title of Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast (B5, 11). Though Dudley wrote Siria to tell her he earned the title, he said very little else of his boxing.  
“Are you really leaving?” Dudley asked as he slumped down to sit on the step of the porch. Siria closed her laptop and rested a hand on it.  
“You’ve been cool this summer, but I really need to go,” said Siria.  
“But he’s late, your dad,” said Dudley.  
“He’s on his way.”  
“Don’t you want to wait inside?”  
“Not with your mum glaring at me.”  
“She won’t glare if I sit with you. We—we could even watch the news,” he said. Dudley hated the news, but Siria wanted to watch every day since summer started.   
Siria picked at the dirt beneath her glittering green nails. She clicked her tongue at her nails then looked over the rim of her glasses, to her cousin. “Big D, I’m not safe here and my friends aren’t safe without me,” said Siria. “Voldemort is back and he’s going to come after me again.”  
“I thought your dad said you were safe here,” said Dudley.  
“As in inside,” Siria pointed over her shoulder, to the mahogany door of Number Four. “I don’t want to live inside my trunk for the rest of summer with rubbish letters like ‘wish I could tell you’ and ‘loads going on’ and ‘see you soon’, but not news on when that is.” Siria leaned forward, careful to hold her laptop tighter.  
“Dudley, I’m going mad and I mean both angry and crazy,” Siria confessed. She pressed the nails of one hand into her scalp as she closed her eyes. Siria shuddered while she pulled herself back together. “Hermione,” Siria whispered to herself, “Ron, Transfiguration, Kreacher, Colin, Dennis,” with each name her heart and mind steadied until her breath was calm.  
“Is that why you keep making stuff shake?” Dudley asked. Siria slid off her trunk to sit beside her cousin. She leaned her head on his shoulder and muttered her reply. “Can your dad help though?”  
“I don’t know, but I know being here isn’t,” she confessed. “For what it’s worth, I’ll send you extra fudge for Christmas.”  
“From that Honeydukes place?”  
“Yeah. Sure they’ve got a menu or something so you can order what you actually want.”  
“That giadia stuff was good,” said Dudley. She opened her mouth to correct him with “Gianduia”, but realized the name wasn’t important. Siria nodded.  
A very flashy, red coloured Austin Healey Sprite rounded the corner of Privet Drive and Siria’s face lit. She opened her trunk, orange point of its star up, and pulled out a messenger bag, which she stuffed the laptop into. Siria positively beamed as Sirius pulled up. Dudley picked up her trunk when Siria reached for it. He shrugged and headed to the car.  
“Don’t you look happy,” Sirius said to Dudley with a smile. Sirius opened up the boot of the car and Dudley placed Siria’s trunk inside. Dudley extended his hand to Siria.  
“See you, cousin,” said Dudley. Siria smiled at him and opened her arms for a hug. She shrugged.  
“Even Mrs. Nosey Number Three’s not looking,” said Siria. Dudley hugged Siria, however short and awkward it was. “See you next summer,” Siria opened the passenger door.  
“Talk to you sooner, since you got that phone, an’ all.”  
“Maybe you could visit in London,” said Sirius. Dudley and Siria looked to him in shared surprise. Sirius shrugged. “Just remember, if you ever bully my daughter I’ll make you trip up every set of stairs you touch for the rest of your life,” and Sirius closed the driver’s door.  
“He’s joking... maybe,” Siria eyed her father, but waved to her cousin, and settled into the car with her bag.  
“Nice of him to see you off,” Sirius smiled as they pulled off of Privet Drive. Siria shook her head.  
“Don’t think you’re getting off being late,” she snapped. “I’d half a mind to just take the Knight Bus after all. You didn’t even call.” Siria pulled her laptop from her bag and resumed her spreadsheet.  
“Siria, there’s a lot going on,” said Sirius. “Once you get home, you’ll see what I mean.”  
“You’re not going to tell me?”  
“What do you want to hear?”  
“Everything, but, first: how is everyone?”  
“Everyone?” Sirius asked.  
“Don’t be coy. I know who all is there,” she said “but I want details and to know why Colin and Dennis got there before me.”  
Sirius sighed, but his smile told Siria he was prepared for as much. “Once Barbara learned what happened before, she and Eric decided that the boys would be safer with us, learning all they could, than with two Muggles,” Sirius explained. “Don’t worry. Colin and Dennis haven’t learned anything you haven’t. They’re still working on Shield Charms. I was going to start them on Helping Hands, but someone,” he shot Siria a sideways glance with a smile, “already had them go over them.”  
“You can never have enough Healers, isn’t that what you told me?” Siria raised an eyebrow. “So that’s the Creevey Brothers, what about Alice?”  
The color drained from Sirius’s already pale face. Siria had debated saving Alice Travers for last, but needed to know. Alice Travers was a Slytherin seventh year who excelled at Charms, could lighten almost any mood as the Weasley twins did, and whose father joined Voldemort just before summer started. She returned home only to learn that her father had taken the Dark Mark the day before, at the advice of his cousin, Lucius Malfoy. None of Siria’s letters gave specifics, but Alice ran away and was taken in by Cassius Warrington and his family.  
“She’s put on a brave face,” said Sirius after a moment of silence.  
“So she’s miserable?” Siria asked, though she didn’t know why.  
“Rightfully so,” Sirius drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Cassius is doing well though. He’s been fighting for you to come since day one— of course I have too,” Sirius said at the expression on her face. “Dumbledore seems convinced information is on a ‘need-to-know’ and you should only know what is absolutely necessary.” Sirius rolled his eyes, which told Siria he didn’t agree.  
“Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of our time,” Siria quoted with a smile, which she let fall the moment she was done. Dumbledore was Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where Siria attended. He was also held in high esteem for his contributions to the wizarding community, though some did not agree with his views on half breeds or Muggleborns, which was that they deserved the same opportunities and education as other wizards. There was no doubt that Siria and Sirius agreed with Dumbledore on many of his stances, but neither agreed with keeping Siria in the dark.  
“Has he done the same for Cassius?” Siria asked.  
“Yes. He doesn’t even allow Cassius in meetings, though Willow and William don’t agree with keeping him out,” said Sirius.  
“Who?”  
“Willow and William— the Warringtons,” said Sirius.  
“Willow and William Warrington? And then Cassius?” Siria sighed.  
“It gets better, Willow Olivia Warrington and William Oliver Warrington. You don’t marry someone for their last name, you marry because you love them,” Sirius shrugged, “or you want a tax break or something.”  
“I guess I’d rather be ‘wow’ than ‘sob’,” confessed Siria.  
“Excuse me, Siria Jessica Potter-Black, not all of us get all consonants for our name.”  
“Anyways, who else isn’t getting into meetings?” Siria asked.  
“Anyone still in school,” answered Sirius. “Chloe’s been ripping out her hair with all the interns she got thrown on her. It would be one thing if people knew what they were doing, but the Creeveys and Hermione are the only ones that have seen a computer before.”  
“How is Hermione?” Siria asked.  
“Missing you terribly.”  
“And Ron?” Siria asked and slowed down on the keys of her laptop.  
“Eager for your return.”  
“Hagrid?” she asked and didn’t notice she stopped typing.  
“Still on secret, official business,” said Sirius. Siria tsked and resumed her spreadsheet.  
“Really though, what is happening?” Siria asked. She opened up a new document to type in whatever he told her. Sirius sighed.  
“Even if I tell you, you’re not allowed in the Order, alright?” Sirius instructed. Siria nodded. She spent the rest of the drive typing up any and all information Sirius offered her. Siria couldn’t afford to forget something and not tell the others.   
Voldemort, who tried to kill Siria in his family graveyard not even three weeks ago, had not surfaced since. The Order of the Phoenix had been recruiting allies and members where they could. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, continued to deny what happened in the graveyard; he’s put pressure on the Daily Prophet to paint Siria in the worst light they can. Though Fudge’s real fear is that Dumbledore wants to be the Minister of Magic. Siria opened her mouth to point out that Dumbledore doesn’t want to be Minister, but knew that Sirius knew just as well as she did. Dumbledore has continued to try and put the word of Voldemort’s return out, with much resistance. [B5, 91-95]  
“So,” said Siria, “part of me understands that Fudge is scared and scared people can do stupid things, but hasn’t Lumos done anything to stop it? Like, the Daily Prophet has free competition saying something completely different, and people don’t believe it?”  
“Oh, people do believe it,” Sirius assured her. “Hermione got your interviews out so quickly, the Daily Prophet had to scramble to form an argument. It just isn’t enough though. The Daily Prophet’s been established for a long time, then this flyer— I’m sorry, my dear,” Sirius said at the look on Siria’s face “it’s on nice paper, but it’s a flyer—then this flyer shows up out of nowhere, to almost everyone.”  
Sirius sighed. He reached over and placed a hand on Siria’s head, to pat her hair for a moment. “People will believe what they want to and some people just aren’t ready to believe it,” he confessed. “The Stargazers assured you’d at least have a lot of Hogwarts behind you, but the Minister of Magic does have some influence.”  
He continued to tell her about some of the new Order members, many of who were knew to Siria, but he assured her that she’d meet them someday. Sirius went on to tell her that, aside from gaining followers, Voldemort is trying to gain something more. “It’s something like a weapon,” said Sirius [B5, 95-96]  
“Like a weapon?” Siria asked and paused her typing. “What? Does he have a death ray?” She let out a small laugh. Sirius’s lips forced a thin smile.  
“Even Voldemort knows there are some things more valuable than being able to murder,” said Sirius. Siria made a note on the document of “better than a death ray”. “That’s all I can say, though.”  
“Do we have it? The ‘like a weapon’?” Siria asked.  
“We’re guarding it,” said Sirius. “That’s really all though.” Siria hummed as she wondered.  
Sirius parked in front of a tall, glass building that glared back at them with the heat of the summer sun. Siria shook her head. “I thought we were going home!” She said.  
“Everyone else is here. Don’t you want to see Cassius fight with the printer?” Sirius asked as he opened his door.  
“Not really,” Siria sang in reply.  
“Come on, Chloe hasn’t seen you all summer,” Sirius ducked his head into the car.  
“That’s a whole week an’ a half.”  
“Don’t punish others just because you were wrongfully imprisoned for an extra three days.”  
“It was only three because I wrote you that I’d get home with or without you!”  
“Stubborn like you mother,” he told her.  
“Like all of my parents!” Siria shouted back. “You ought to be proud.” Sirius rested his head on his arm, on the car door frame.  
“Why are we fighting?” He asked.  
“I don’t know!” Siria shouted. “I’m so mad— I’m furious.”  
“It’s the heat,” Sirius reasoned. “Let’s go inside, where there’s air conditioning and most of your friends.”  
Siria pressed her face deep into her hands, beneath her glasses and screamed. She pulled at her face. “Hermione, Ron, Colin, Dennis, George, Fred, Transfiguration…” Siria listed silently. She stepped out and slammed the car door, which she shouted at. “I’m trying!” She snapped at Sirius.  
“I know,” Sirius placed an arm around her shoulders and they walked into Moony & Padfoot headquarters together.  
“Good afternoon Mr. Black!” A harassed looking woman forced a smile at them. Colin Creevey bolted from behind her desk to hug Siria around the waist. He launched into a monologue of his week and a half without her so quickly no one could stop him. In a single breath, he explained being shuffled from department to department before he ended up at the front desk.  
“Isn’t Colin a little young to be working?” Siria asked as she stepped into the elevator with Sirius. He shrugged.  
“Not sure the logistics, but Chloe’s ex’s sister got us the permits… or him the permit. Dennis is modeling, if you can believe that,” said Sirius. Siria tilted her head while she tossed around the image of Dennis modeling. She supposed he was cute in the way Astoria was. They stepped out of the elevator and onto the cracked ice painted floor. Siria held onto Sirius’s arm while they crossed to the office.  
“Finally!” Chloe barked and grabbed Siria by the arm. “I understand you are intent to hire Siria’s entire school,” Chloe bellowed at Sirius, “but at least teach them all their colors before you send one to help me.” She dragged Siria along. Chloe looked to Ron. “Sweetie, you’re so painfully awkward that it is both endearing and too close to the heart, please help Gred or Forge—” Chloe let out a short scream, “you know your brothers’ names, just,” and she pointed to the door.  
“Catch up soon,” Ron mouthed then he sprinted out of the room.  
Chloe took Siria’s face in her hands and sighed. She put her head on Siria’s shoulder. “Which is chartreuse?” Chloe asked as she let go. Her eyes were caked in makeup to hide the bags beneath them. Siria side stepped over to a bolt of fabric and raised it. “That’s the easy test.” For the next half hour, Siria lifted or pointed to bolt after bolt of fabric until Chloe plopped down on a pile of bolts. “Thank you,” Chloe whispered. “There is a greater power and it doesn’t want your father dead after all,” she sighed. “Honestly, Siria, if he hadn’t taught at least you colors I would have murdered him.” Chloe draped her arm over her eyes. Take a break… be back,” she looked to her watch then dropped her arm back down, “eventually.”  
Siria slipped out of the room before Chloe could change her mind. She paused over the painted floor. Her first instinct was to call someone to walk her across, but she knew it was silly. Siria closed her eyes and dashed into the doors of the elevator. When it dinged she was pleased to see the bushy brown hair of Hermione Granger. The girls threw their arms around the other and laughed as they hugged. Hermione’s hug was warm, long, and felt comfortable.


	2. Dementors in London

**Dementors in London**   


Even in the heat, Cheshire Street was lined with people. Shop windows glittered with their sale or new items. People carried their haul from shop to shop as it grew. Most people walked along, except for three teenagers who sat on a bench underneath a sign that read “Moony & Padfoot”.  
One of the teenagers, a girl with very bushy brown hair that had been pulled into a bun, sat with her nose in a book. Its teal spine was covered in gold runes that matched the rings on her fingers. The soft pink tote bag on her shoulder matched her sneakers. As she was sensible, she wore denim shorts and a white, cotton, short sleeved shirt. Hermione Granger’s appearance, despite her book on ancient runes, fit in nicely to on the street.  
Beside her was a gangling boy with red hair and hundreds of freckles. His sneakers were very worn out. There was even a hole in the heel of his right one, but he liked them too much to throw them away. He wore a white shirt with a navy blue stripe through it and light blue pants. No one looked twice at Ronald Weasley.  
The third teenager had shoved most of her jet-black through her Moony & Padfoot baseball cap. She wore navy blue tank top, torn dark jeans, and her black jacket with several pockets and a very stiff front. Around her bright green eyes, her black eyeliner was smudged where she kept rubbing them whenever she added eyedrops. Siria Potter-Black had not noticed looks, for her attention was on her phone.  
“Says he’s just got off the bus,” Siria told Hermione and Ron. Ron fanned himself with his baseball cap.  
“Remind me, why’re we having tea with your cousin?” Ron asked.  
“Because Sirius is all for reform, so he’s pro-Dudley making amends,” said Siria. “An’ as fun as watching George kick the copier is, I need a break from interning.”  
“I just don’t see why we aren’t hexing him on sight,” Ron glared through the crowd.  
“Dudley is trying to be better, isn’t he?” Hermione asked. “Siria’s working on forgiving him, we ought to too.” Ron crossed his arms and glared fiercer into the crowd of people.  
“Got a lot of making up to do,” said Ron.  
“Is that him?” Ron asked and pointed to someone in the distance. Siria squinted. None of the people she could see looked remotely like her cousin. When the figure Ron pointed to wasn’t so far away, Siria pointed him out. “That’s who I pointed to,” Ron told her. He leaned his head back, over the bench and sighed. “You need new contacts.”  
“My contacts are fine, thank you,” Siria said, “you’ve just got good eyes.” She raised her hand at her cousin and got to her feet. “He’s brought Piers Polkiss,” Siria groaned as she patted the back of her jeans, like she had been sitting in dirt. She looked to Ron. “Why are you so tall?”  
“You’re almost as tall as me,” he defended.  
“In heels,” Siria pointed at the tall, thin heels on her boots. She looked from Ron to Piers. He was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat (B1, 23). “That’s fine,” she told herself. “I could take them both in a fight then, I could take them now.”  
“You’re not here to fight your cousin and his friend,” Hermione told her as she put her book away. “It’s just tea.”  
Much to Siria’s surprise, it was just tea. Hermione, Ron, and Siria listened, mostly quietly, to Dudley talking about his school life and Piers’s occasional addition. They did take a short walk together around Cheshire Street before they parted with Dudley and Piers at the bus stop. Hermione, Ron, and Siria returned to the Moony & Padfoot headquarters building in the early evening.  
When Hermione sat down on a bench, Siria plopped down and put her head on Hermione’s shoulder. She yawned as Hermione pulled out her book and Ron took a seat. Even though she had left Privet Drive, the nightmares of locked doors and long corridors persisted. Siria was restless every morning and usually spent their lunch break napping. Hermione paid the weight on her shoulder no mind and continued to read her book, while Ron was whisked away by the first person who wanted copies made.

As she startled awake, Siria’s head slid from Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione let out a sigh of relief and massaged her neck. “Siria, I love you, I really do, but could you fall asleep on Ron next time?” Hermione asked.  
“But he’s all boney; it’s like trying to sleep on a rock,” said Siria.  
“Fred or George?”  
“They’re Beaters,” said Siria and Hermione just sighed. “I’ll figure something out,” Siria looked to her watch and tsked. It was nearly nine at night.  
“Have you considered that you don’t sleep well at night because you sleep so much during the day?”  
“I slept for maybe three hours,” Siria defended. Hermione stuffed her book in her bag and looked to Siria. Siria rolled her eyes, but followed Hermione to the upstairs office.  
All the lights were out. Moonlight sprinkled in from the windows, which had been opened to let the cool night air in. Someone hung all the bolts of fabric on the wall. The floor was so clean that Hermione and Siria could walk without fear of being tangled in something. One of the desks had been pushed into the middle of the room, with a small army of people behind it. On it was a long sheet cake with fifteen candles.  
Chloe kicked off Happy Birthday as Siria walked across the floor. Remus turned the lights on when Siria blew out the candles. “I know your birthday isn’t for awhile,” said Chloe, “but you’ve all got it off and someone,” she shot Sirius and Remus a short look, “has to be here to hold down the office.” Chloe pulled Siria in to kiss her forehead. “May you cause more trouble than all your past years combined,” she winked to Sirius.  
George squished himself into the seat beside Siria and dropped a small box into her lap. She eyed it then Fred, who nodded. “You’ll be around for it,” Siria reminded him. “Chloe is giving all of us it off.”  
“You’ll want this now,” said George. He clicked his tongue twice, in a playful manner, and went to talk with Fred and Cassius.  
“Open it,” Ron told her and scooted over to see better. Siria opened the little paper box. A small silver ring fell into her palm. It was accented with little crystals of green, silver, red, and gold. Siria slid it on and raised it to Fred and George, who raised their glasses. Cassius raised his hand to show her a similar ring made of gold.  
Hermione took Siria’s hand to look at the ring. She squinted at it, then the twins.  
“If you want one, just ask,” said Ron.  
“I don’t,” said Hermione as examined the ring closer. “I want to know what they did to it.”  
“They gave Cas one, so nothing too bad?” Siria hoped. Hermione hummed, but let go. Siria tugged on the ring to removed it, but it tightened. She gritted her teeth at George. “It’s stuck.”  
“Well, that’s more harmless than I thought it would be— after what I heard about those snack boxes, even you couldn’t talk me into accepting something from them,” Hermione said then took another sip of her drink. Siria looked to Ron, who shook his head to tell Siria she didn’t want to know.  
Cedric came and sat down beside Siria. “Maddy and Patricia wanted to come,” he said, “but Alice isn’t doing well today.”  
“She should have interned,” said Ron. “What?” He asked Hermione at the look she gave him. “It would get her out of the house, wouldn’t it? I know she need time and all, but being alone is just going to make her more lonely.”  
“Ron,” Hermione hissed, “her dad is a you-know-what. She’s allowed to be lonely.” Siria looked to Cedric.  
“How’s your girlfriend?” Siria asked. Ron spat his drink onto his jeans and coughed. Cedric’s face flushed and he raised his glass to hide it. “That bad?” Siria asked. “Well, at least you’ve got one?” Siria shrugged and looked to Hermione, who pinched the bridge of her nose.  
“They broke up,” Ron mouthed to Siria, “right before you arrived.”  
“Oh? Sorry,” Siria told Cedric. “Short summer love then?” Hermione stifled a groan.  
“Dad!” Siria called quickly, to get her foot out of her mouth, “can we stay up and watch The Princess Bride tonight?”  
“Oh!” Chloe slapped Remus’s shoulder. “I love that movie. It’s been too long— we totally should.”  
“No,” Sirius shook his head and looked to his watch. “It’s, er, awfully late and Siria’s still growing— needs sleep.” Siria mouthed wordlessly to her father.  
“Still growing?” Ron lipped to Siria and Hermione. “Still growing?”  
“Sorry, Chloe,” said Remus, “but they have a long day ahead of them.”  
“We haven’t hung out since you got that flat,” Chloe sighed. “I think you forget how hard it is to meet people that don’t treat me—” she realized how much her voice carried in the silence of the room after Siria’s call for a movie. “—like the boss.”  
Cold shot through the office as if a rush of wind finally arrived. Even in her jacket, Siria felt doused in cold water. Chloe reached to close a window, as the lights went out. “Power outages?” She laughed, but Siria heard the faint screams of her mother. Her cup fell from her hand.  
Remus rushed for Chloe. He pulled her from the window as Sirius reached for his wand and three hovering, hooded figures fell into sight. Colin and Dennis rushed to Siria’s side, as she stood up and stepped between the dementor’s path and her friends. Light erupted from the tip of Sirius’s wand.  
Mammoth sized dogs made of clustered stars, connected by thin, glowing blue lights of joy, formed from the light. They leapt over Remus and Chloe. One dog bit into a dementor’s cloak, dragged it around like a toy, then released it. The two others tackled their dementors and snarled. Siria raised her wand as a fourth swept past its three downed comrades. Her knees weakened under her and Ron grabbed onto Siria’s shoulder.  
“Don’t!” Sirius shouted to her. One of Sirius’s Patronus rounded on the fourth. Siria squeezed her eyes shut. “Take me!” Siria heard her mother beg Voldemort to let Siria live. Ron’s hand vanished from her. She felt the pull of the dementor as the world darkened. Another of Sirius’s Patronus dogs grabbed the cloak of the fourth.  
WHAM!  
Ron slammed a chair into the floor between Siria and the fourth dementor, which startled back enough that the Patronus gained footing. There was a flash, then several behind Siria as the Patronus threw the Dementor through the window it entered from. Ron shoved a handful of cake into Siria’s mouth. She opened her mouth to protest, but the moment the chocolate cream melted on her tongue Siria was grateful for it.  
Siria slammed a window behind the final dementor shut. Cassius, Fred, George, Hermione, and Ron closed the closest ones. Sirius thrust a plate of cake into Remus’s hands. “It’s okay— Chloe, we’re here. You need to try and eat,” Remus cooed as she stroked Chloe’s trembling body. She held her head in her hands as she shook and apologized. Cedric and Ginny closed the other windows. Fred slid pieces of cake onto plates. George made sure than Colin, Dennis, and Ginny got theirs first.  
“Chloe is a Squib, not a Muggle,” Sirius told them while Remus helped Chloe steady herself. She pushed the plate of cake away.  
“Sorry,” Chloe apologized a little louder than her other ones. She focused on the ground before her shoes. “Don’t know what came over me.”  
“Chloe,” Sirius placed a hand over Remus’s, on Chloe’s shoulder.  
“Right— right,” Chloe nodded. “I’m a— I’m a ‘Squib’, not— not a Muggle.”  
“No,” Sirius pointed to the slice of cake, “please.”  
Crack.  
Ron was the one to peer into the parking lot. He huffed a sigh. “Looks like the O.W.’s are here, anyway,” said Ron.  
“It’ll be fine.” Sirius told them. He withdrew his phone and started a call. “Come on, all of you. Let’s go.”  
“OW’s?” Siria asked.  
“The Ordinary Wizarding Police,” Ron whispered. “They’re like, in charge of the International Statute of Secrecy and stuff, but, if Chloe’s a Squib, I don’t know why they’d bother.”  
Chloe, with Remus’s arm around her shoulder and the plate of cake finally in her hands, loaded into the elevator with Sirius, Hermione, Ron, Siria and Cedric. Cassius, Colin, Dennis, Fred, George, and Ginny waited for its return. The elevator down had never been so slow. Hermione took Siria’s hand and nodded. Siria let go of her jacket, where her wand had been. She reached for Ron’s hand while she and her heart sank lower with the elevator.  
This was why she had hardly been allowed outside. This was why she was back before nightfall every day. It was why Cassius was only ever at Grimmauld Place or Moony & Padfoot. She tightened her grip on her best friends’ hands. Was it just a matter of time?  
“Voldemort?” Siria’s exhausted voice drew over the hum of the elevator. Chloe startled.  
“The, uh,” Chloe dropped her voice to Remus. “You know.” Siria sighed.  
“Is there anyone else we know that knows Voldemort killed Lily and James Potter?” Siria asked.  
“Siria,” said Hermione, “more of the wizarding world knows that Voldemort—” Hermione stiffened at the name, “—killed your parents than about q-analogs.” Ron and Siria gave the other a sideways glance that confirmed neither of them knew what a “q-analog” was.  
Pointed wands greeted them when the elevator doors opened. Chloe rose to her full height, which, in her heels, was taller than any of them. “Excuse me, but you need to fill out a request form to bring your wands in,” Chloe said as if the two Ordinary Wizarding Policemen held a regularly restricted item. The man and woman shared a glance, but lowered their wands while the party stepped out of the elevator.  
“Mr. Black,” the portly gentleman with mop of salt and pepper hair began, “we got word you used magic in front of a Muggle, but,” he gestured to Chloe with his wand. Chloe gasped, as if she’d been called a nasty swear word.  
“Excuse you!” She shouted, “I’m a Squib!” Chloe crossed her arms and looked to Remus with outrage on her face. “Can you believe him?”  
“I, er,” the woman with short white hair paused, “I trust you can provide proof of lineage?”  
“We can,” said Sirius.  
“Then, that’ll be,” the man stared at his partner, “MacMillan in Heritage?”  
“You can expect a letter for a meeting with him or with Bones, in Magical Law Enforcement,” the witch sighed and put her wand away. “Honestly, though, what is with the Anti-Apparition? Do you have a warrant?”  
“I do,” said Sirius.  
“You’ll need to bring that too then,” her hazel eyes ran over Sirius like his slacks would confess something else.  
As the pair of Ordinary Wizarding Police stepped out, the elevator opened. Cassius hugged Siria from behind with the feel he thought she would not have been there. Siria patted his arm. She raised an eyebrow at Sirius, which told him that he had quite a bit of explaining to do.  
“Ho—” Chloe silenced herself while she stared into the magically larger on the inside van. Her perfectly mascaraed eyes made Siria trace over the makeup under her own. Chloe cleared her throat and slid into the middle of the long bench that made the front of the van. Remus had added enough room to the van for everyone to fit in comfortably. Hermione sat right behind him, with Siria beside her.  
“Where do we live?” Sirius asked Siria, as Remus pulled out of the parking lot.  
“A flat on—” Siria started. Her father nodded in Chloe’s direction. “Oh!” Siria’s bright green eyes gleamed like the wet road in the street lights. “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.”  
“Sirius!” Hermione gasped. “What would Dumbledore say?”  
“Dumbledore hired Filch— he can’t really judge us on which Squibs we love,” Siria gave Chloe’s shoulder a small squeeze. “Tell you what though, I would have been way more lively when you picked me up, if I’d known I could talk about Hogwarts.”  
“Well,” Chloe shot Sirius then Remus a look, “being a Squib is a touchy subject, isn’t it?”  
“Oh,” Siria leaned back in her chair. She and Hermione turned to Ron, who shrugged.  
“I mean, most people think it’s funny,” he reminded them.  
When they stepped out of the van at Number Twelve, Chloe glared at Sirius. “This is your old place,” said Chloe. She stood on the doorstep and examined the building like she had never seen anything so amazing. “I— I stopped by here, you know, but…” Chloe patted the wall to make sure it was real. “It wasn’t here?” She clicked her tongue and crossed her arms.  
“We’ve got a long night ahead of us,” Remus reminded her and knocked the door with his wand. There was a series of clicks before it opened.  
“Finally!” Mrs. Weasley shouted at them. “You won’t believe the owls we’ve gotten.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Veritaserum**   


Mrs. Weasley’s eyes grew at the sight of Chloe. She paused, the handful of letters she had prepared to knock Sirius with remained up. Maddy, who had been waiting on the steps, dragged Siria, by the wrist, down to the kitchen. Hermione and Ron were at their heels, but Remus and Sirius lead Chloe upstairs. Colin and Dennis thundered after Siria.  
Sugar. Thick, dense, whipped, heated sugar filled their noses. It was like someone lit an entire store of dessert scented candles at once. Maddy paused at the bottom of the stairs to clench her stomach and cover her nose. Dennis, on the other hand, pushed past and pounced on the table of sweets.  
“Er…” Siria gawked at the rainbow feast of treats. “I… I see,” she said. “Kreacher?” She scanned, but couldn’t see him through all the food on the table and counters, which had been covered with tea towers.  
“Mistress,” Kreacher croaked and poked his head out from under the table. He gave her a huge, toothless grin and smiled back as she crouched down to eye level.  
“Kreacher, weren’t you supposed to take it easy today?” Siria asked.  
“But Mistress, it’s movie night,” said Kreacher. He took her hand to take her around and point out some of the treats for the night: chocolate dipped pretzels, caramel corn, and breadsticks stuffed with cheese.   
“Can you believe he didn’t know what a computer was until summer?” Colin asked Siria. He poked his nose into Kreacher’s laptop, which had been placed on a chair to allow more room for food on the table. Dennis smiled at the website Kreacher used for the stuffed breadstick recipe. “Now look what he’s doing.”  
“Kreacher’s a very quick learner,” Siria smiled as Kreacher led her to the largest pot. “He works very hard at everything he does,” she praised. Kreacher had her fill the bottom of the with oil and salt. Making popcorn together was one of his odder favorite things, in Siria’s opinion. When Sirius offered to get an air popper, Kreacher nearly cried and the subject was dropped.  
Once the popcorn was made and buttered, they carried the bowls up to the living room. A large television, more new than one Uncle Vernon had bought to celebrate Dudley’s return from school, spanned most of the wall opposite a long sofa. The floor was cushioned and covered in pillows. There were two low coffee tables with padded legs and edges, as if baby proofed. Sirius even added a dimmer for the lights, which, at their lowest setting before off, looked like the night sky in the city with only a handful of stars still visible.  
Nestled between Hermione and Dennis, Siria tried to watch the movie with the others. Movie nights mostly consisted of their suspicions to what Lord Voldemort was up to, how Albus Dumbledore may be planning to stop him, or what the Order was up to. Tonight, however, they watched quietly and listened as best they could to the pieces of conversation that drifted down the stairs.  
“It’s nothing we don’t know,” said Cassius. He turned to Siria. “Now’s probably the best time.” She nodded to him Ron. Ron poked his head into the entryway, where he swept up Siria’s bag and brought it in. Siria slid her wand from her jacket and summoned a snake.  
“Let us know when they’re coming,” Siria told the snake. It slithered away as pulled out her laptop and opened it up. “Okay,” Siria clicked and pulled up her document. Hermione snuggled closer to Siria, so she could read the screen better. Cassius, Cedric, Fred, George, and Ron sat almost on each other, on the sofa, behind Siria. Ginny curdled up to Hermione, with Maddy and Patricia by her side. Dennis pressed himself to Siria’s side, with Colin pressed just as close to him, and Alice on Colin’s other side.  
“So, the Order is guarding… well,” Siria sighed, “something.” Even behind a locked and protected door, the members of the order seemed to not want to name whatever it was Voldemort was after.  
“We know it’s in a public or somewhat public place,” Hermione said.  
“Because they need Moody’s Invisibility Cloak for it,” Ron nodded.  
“Shame they can’t cast an Invisibility Charm like Hermione,” Fred said. Hermione blushed and tucked her hair behind her ears. Maddy looked over her shoulder at him, for she, Patricia, and Cassius had also mastered the charm.  
“Anyways,” Siria glanced to the snake, who was calmly listening to the upstairs. “They take turns and watch it over night, usually from about four or five in the afternoon until sometime in the morning.”  
“Maybe it’s at a business,” Hermione thought aloud.  
“Whatever it is, it’s old,” said Siria. “Sirius said Voldemort wanted it, but couldn’t get it last time.”  
“Didn’t he say it was a weapon?” Ron asked.  
“Like a weapon,” said Fred and George.  
“Sirius would have called it a weapon,” said Fred  
“If it was a weapon,” finished George. Hermione examined Siria’s scar, which caused Siria to rub at it.  
“He’s already got her blood,” said Cassius, “and she’s usually here from dusk to dawn.”  
“Then,” said Siria, as she put both hands back on her keyboard, “there’s Hagrid’s secret mission, which we haven’t caught real wind of…” Siria sighed.  
“But he’s with Madame Maxime,” Hermione added, “so it’s probably giant related.”  
“I mean, didn’t Dumbledore say Fudge should recruit the giants?” Patricia said.  
“Suppose I’d send them out of everyone in the Order,” said Ron, “to recruit giants.”  
“If Fudge finds out Dumbledore sent anyone to the giants, he’ll really think Dumbledore’s making an army,” said Siria. Hermione huffed.  
“Honestly, he’s ridiculous,” Hermione rolled her eyes.  
“To be fair,” said Cassius, “Fudge saw Siria and I use Fiendfyre, which is considered above N.E.W.T. level. That’s not to mention all the other things we did.”  
“So,” said Siria as she continued. “In Snape’s last meeting, he said that Voldemort was keeping a low profile, while Death Eaters of influence get in the good graces of the Ministry and Daily Prophet.” Siria gave Hermione a sideways glance and smirk. “Especially with Lumos throwing a real wrench into things.” Hermione blushed furiously and hugged Siria’s arm.  
Rather than using the name of the Hogwarts Herald to publish the interviews with Cassius and Siria, Hermione founded a new paper: Lumos. Lumos was usually more of a pamphlet that came out weekly with information on past Death Eater tactics. It was published without any names, delivered only once everyone in the house was asleep or away, and Sirius agreed to eat the cost of the paper to make it free and accessible.  
Even without names, Hermione had gotten letters of support. Cassius and Siria started to get letters once the Daily Prophet published its first smear piece “The Girl Who Lied”. They had only made small jabs at her the first week, when Lumos came out, but the second Sunday’s paper was slander. Cassius had been reduced to a single mention “Regardless of what The Girl Who Lied and her Slytherin Senior student say[...]”. The Daily Prophet article caused a storm of letters to arrive at the loft on Baker Street with encouragement, questions, and praise. Most of the letters had been without names, but Cedric and Hermione recognized the handwriting of a few Hogwarts Herald members.  
“What are we doing for this week’s Lumos?” Colin asked Hermione. “I got a picture of the dementors.” Hermione hummed as she considered. She peered into Siria’s eyes.  
“No…” Hermione’s voice was quiet and full of wonder. “We’ll wait until after it’s all settled…”  
“Yes?” Siria asked.  
“Do you think we could go to the Ministry with them?” Hermione asked.  
“As in slither in?” Maddy nodded in the direction of the snake.  
“If we can’t get in ourselves, probably,” said Siria.  
“Maybe we can just do another piece on what to look out for,” suggested Cedric. “Suggestions for what to do if you think someone is trying to recruit you or how to distance yourself from people you think might be Death Eaters?”  
“What—” Alice’s voice sliced through the already quiet room. She hardly spoke these days. “— if we gave suggestions for if your parents are Death Eaters and you don’t support them?”  
“Like, jinx household items so it’s difficult for them to leave?” Ginny asked.  
“Say you need help with summer homework?” Colin suggested.  
“Complain you don’t spend enough time with them,” said Dennis. “They’re not going to bring their kid to a meeting.” Hermione nodded and smiled.  
“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” she said.  
“Shh,” Siria hissed at them them as the snake slithered quickly over to her. She closed the document, then her laptop screen, slid it into her bag, and passed it to Ron. Ron tucked it into the corner of the sofa. Dennis put his head on Siria’s lap and pretended to be asleep, while the others pretended to be immersed in the movie.  
Sirius leaned in the doorway and examined Siria’s face. She smiled at him like there was nothing to hide. “You wanna jump in?” She asked. Sirius crossed his arms.  
“No…” his face was paler than usual. “We’re starting veritaserum tomorrow,” and he headed back up the stairs.  
“I thought we weren’t going to start until the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. prep was over,” said Hermione. Most the room turned to her.  
“Hermione,” said Fred,  
“Are you preparing for N.E.W.T.s already?” asked George.  
“You even have Cassius’s notes from O.W.L. year,” said Siria.  
“What more preparation could you do?” asked Ron. “Hermione, I think you’ve ready every book in this house, twice.”  
“I just don’t know we’re ready for veritaserum,” Hermione confessed.  
“Not us,” said Fred.  
“Siria,” George patted Siria’s wild black hair.

After breakfast, Siria followed Sirius up the top landing, where his room had been. In a sense, it still was, but he now shared it with Order members that came and went. Siria sat down in his rocking chair, beside the bookshelf. He held out half a glass of water, which Siria knew held the veritaserum. Her hand trembled as she accepted it and gulped it down.  
Siria had been thrown back into the Room of Requirement, into her pool of water. It was the same feeling of suspension. There was an even weight throughout her body, but it was the shift in her mind. She was feverish and her thoughts raced, but disappeared too quickly to know what any of them were.  
“What is the Order of the Phoenix?” Sirius’s voice echoed through her mind. The words bounced around. They collected others and started to come out of Siria’s mouth before she realized what was happening.  
“The Order of the Phoenix,” her own voice sounded like a faded radio station.  
“Stop!” A voice demanded from somewhere inside Siria, but she followed another voice and repeated its words.  
“Was founded to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters,” her distant voice continued. She knew it was aloud, unlike the voice that continued to shout for her to stop. “They were outnumbered, twenty to one. The Order of Phoenix got hunted and picked off, one by one.” This was true. Hermione had learned and shared what little there was about the old Order of the Phoenix.  
“Who are the members of the Order of the Phoenix?” asked Sirius’s echoing voice.  
“Peter Pettigrew, though he was a spy for Voldemort,” replied Siria as she continued to follow the lead of the other voice inside her.  
“Who are the current members of the Order?” He asked. Words echoed through her mind. There was the voice that instructed to stop, but the other was cunning. “The Order” that other voice repeated.  
“Doctor Strange,” Siria listed, Sirius hacked out a bark of laughter. The suspension seemed to sway like rising toward the surface of the Lake at Hogwarts.  
“Who are the current members of the Order of the Phoenix?” Sirius asked.  
“When Voldemort defeated himself and gave me the scar, there was no more need for the Order of the Phoenix,” said Siria. Sirius repeated the question with a few variations, but Siria continued to reply similarly.  
“Is the Order of the Phoenix active?” Sirius asked. His voice echoed less, like it was just into an empty room with good acoustics.  
“They’re lethargic.” The other voice inside Siria shook its head. “It’s either that or too clumsy or busy to be ‘active’.”  
“No.” Siria said. Her body tingled like chills from music.  
“It’s worn off, hasn’t it?” asked Sirius.  
“Mostly,” she replied. There was no point in hiding it. Sirius patted his daughter’s hair as if to further mess up the already wild mane.  
“The others will join tomorrow, in the practice room,” said Sirius. “Maybe seeing you will help them challenge it when it’s their turn.” He smiled. “Do you like anyone?”  
“Loads of people.”  
“Any crushes?”  
“War is no time for such things,” she answered and Sirius’s smile fell. He stood behind the chair and brushed Siria’s hair. There was something about his slow hands and silence that felt like an apology.


	4. The Ministry of Magic

**The Ministry of Magic**   


On the first floor, where Siria’s bedroom had been, was now a communal room. Her full sized bed had been replaced with three bunk beds. The yellow desk was pushed against the Gryffindor painted wall and stretched out until just before it touched one of the bunkbeds. A handful of orange chairs lined the elongated desk.   
Its back wall still had a bookshelf that scaled across it most of it, but stopped before one of the bunk beds. All the photos had been removed. Between the bookshelf and the door, along the bronze and blue wall, curtains were hung for changing.  
Sirius had left the circular rug with a large, black, wolf like dog howling placed beneath the starry chandelier, which also remained. On the rug, in a circle, sat Alice Travers, Cassius Warrington, Cedric Diggory, Fred and George Weasley, Hermione Granger, Maddy Swelyn, Patricia Kenner, Ronald Weasley, and Siria Potter-Black. Their wand tips collected in the center of the rug.  
“Strong as we are united,” they whispered, but their combined voiced carried. “Strong as we are united.” Faint light twinkled from the ends of their wands.   
“I can’t believe you want to keep this up,” Alice told Siria as she stood up.  
“We can’t be idle over anything” said Siria.  
“It’s not like it hurts to be consistent,” Hermione noted. She undid the towel around her hair and continued to dry it.  
“We just aren’t even sure it works,” said Maddy as she stretched out on the rug.  
“We don’t know it doesn’t,” Patricia smiled while she leaned over Maddy. Siria sighed and climbed the ladder to the top bunk along the Gryffindor colored wall.  
“I’m just saying, a lot more interesting things could be happening,” Alice said and she dropped onto the bottom bunk of the Slytherin wall. Siria muttered and crawled under her blankets.  
“Ah!” Alice screamed. Siria leapt down from her bunk, half the room turned to Alice while the other whipped out their wands and pointed them around the room as they scanned for danger. “Calm down,” she told them. “I just swallowed my mandrake leaf— again,” Alice sighed. Cedric handed her the jar of leaves from the bookshelf. Siria grabbed onto the ladder.  
“What happened,” Colin asked, but saw the jar. “Can’t I have a leaf too?”  
“Colin, even Patricia and Cedric aren’t trying the Animagus Ritual— it’s dangerous,” said Siria.  
“But you did it fine,” Colin argued.  
“I had to keep a mandrake leaf in my mouth for over a year before I could, and I’ve got a lot more experience in Transfiguration than you,” said Siria.  
“But you can’t make a bridge yet,” Colin argued like that solved it. Cassius pinched his nose. Alice pressed her face into her pillow to muffle her laughter. Ron squeezed his eyes shut.  
“Can you make a bridge?” Siria asked. “No. No, you can’t make a bridge yet, so how is that a qualification for it?” Patricia pecked Maddy on the head then pushed herself up and clapped twice. She put a hand on Colin’s head then knelt down to eye level with him. “Creevey, I understand wanting to do more and feeling you’re ready for it,” she said in a her calm voice. “One of the greatest frustrations of growing up is feeling that no one believes you’re ready when you know you are. What can help it be less frustrating is to think of where the other person is coming from.  
“Siria knows what it’s like to want to do more, but she’s also taken on more than she was ready for. It might not feel like it, but us telling you ‘no’ is coming from a place of love,” said Patricia. Siria buried blushing face into her hands.  
“But I’m fourteen now— so I’m the same age as Siria. She even fought Voldemort a few weeks ago and got her mandrake leaf at thirteen” said Colin.  
“Fine!” Siria said and let go of the ladder. “Dennis, I know you’re in the hall.”  
Dennis Creevey poked his round face into the room. He looked up at her. Siria reached for the mandrake jar and Alice tossed it to her. She cracked open the lid, pulled out two leaves, and held them out without looking at the brothers.  
“You can take these leaves, but know the moment you place it under your tongue, you’re breaking the law,” Siria said. “When you complete the ritual and get your form, you’re a walking criminal and there’s more than a few Galleons to pay. Anyone that learns can blackmail you— if you’re small enough, you could get trapped in a jar,” Hermione turned to gaze to the floor. “It’s an even greater secret than the Room of Requirement because if someone finds out you’re an Animagus, it puts the other people on the line.”  
Colin’s hand was frozen just before one of the leaves. He looked around the room and felt the eyes on him just as much as the eyes avoiding him. Dennis searched Siria’s eyes for the “right” choice. George gave a hollow laugh.  
“Come on, Potter-Black,” George said.  
“You made the decision ages ago,” said Fred.  
“It’s not the decision, it’s knowing the weight,” Siria explained. “The Animagus Ritual isn’t be done because it’s ‘cool’ or because other people are doing it. Who’s going to tell their parents that they’re stuck as a half-animal hybrid because a restricted, complex ritual, that the Ministry only allows performed under close observation went wrong?”  
Ron put his hand on Siria’s shoulder. He leaned in and whispered something into her ear. She extended the mandrake leaves further. Over Siria’s shoulder, Ron nodded to Colin and Dennis, who each took one. Dennis inspected Siria’s eyes for any sign of her usual encouragement, but she remained impassive.  
“I’m not going to tell anyone!” Colin said and stuffed the leaf under his tongue.  
“I—” Dennis scanned Colin, who nodded as his face scrunched up from the bitterness of the mandrake leaf, before he looked back to Siria. “I want to be an Animagus so I can help you fight or so I can hide and you don’t have to worry about me,” said Dennis. His eyes fell to the wooden floors as he stuffed the mandrake leaf under his tongue.  
“Once you can keep it under your tongue for a month, we’ll line it up with the lunar cycle,” Siria told them. She put the jar back on the bookshelf and squeezed her eyes shut. Having the mandrake leaf didn’t mean much. It was just the most basic step of the ritual. Even if there was another lightning storm this summer, they couldn’t keep the mandrake leaf under their tongue for a month of practice and a lunar month. Her hand rested on the lid of the jar. She faced the wall with her eyes shut and focused on the sound of footsteps leaving.  
Patricia’s warm hand patted Siria’s shoulder. “Everyone deserves the opportunity to make the choice,” said Patricia. Siria nodded, but did not reply. “They’re Muggleborn; they need every extra defense they can get,” Patricia added before she let go and climbed into to her bunk.  
Long after the other girls had gone to sleep, Siria stared at the ceiling, awake. If she closed her eyes, she would only be greeted by a nightmare of a dark, long hallway and locked door (B5, 9). Her watch told her it just after midnight. She crawled from her bed and went down to the kitchen.  
On the kitchen counter, in a large tupperware, was a two foot long brownie, baked with cookie on top. It rested beside a half sheet of red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting, which was next to tub of Kreacher’s S’mores trail mix. Siria grabbed a plate, put down a base of the brownie-cookie, smashed a piece of cake on that, added a scoop of Kreacher’s marshmallow ice cream, then topped it with a handful of the trail mix. She had barely made a dent in it when someone else entered the kitchen.  
Alice Travers was just taller than most seventeen year old girls. She had dark, tightly curled hair. There were heavy, dark bags beneath her tired brown eyes. Their usual ribbons of yellow and specks of green were muted. She took a spoon, sat beside Siria, and pulled the bowl between them.  
“You can do a Patronus Charm, yeah?” Alice asked when they had finished the bowl. Siria nodded. “Tired?” Siria shook her head at the bowl. “I can’t do one… do you want to show me?”  
“Yeah,” Siria’s quiet voice cracked. She washed the bowl and followed to Alice to the practice room.  
First, Siria explained the Patronus Charm. Next she stressed how important it was to find a happy memory. Finally, she extended her wand into the room. Siria closed her eyes and remembered Sirius’s face when she transformed, only a week ago, into her Animagus form for the first time.  
“Expecto Patronum!” Light burst from Siria’s wand, as it had burst from Sirius’s not even a week ago. It morphed from loose light into a starlike collection that formed a large, almost wolflike dog. Siria gasped and her Patronus dissipated. Her fingers gripped her wild jet-black hair as she squatted down. “My Patronus changed— Sirius is going to be so upset it isn’t like James’s anymore— I gotta— gotta— I gotta change it back.”  
“Dork, that isn’t it” said Alice. She held herself in her arms. “You and your dad are the same,” she said. Water glittered in her eyes. She stifled a sob, but slowly collapsed to her knees. “How could he to that?” Alice choked. Siria ran to her and hugged Alice and tightly as she could. “He was my father and— and he,” she grabbed onto Siria’s nightshirt and tried to stop the tears that escaped her. “How could he?”  
“I don’t know,” Siria stroked Alice’s hair, which sprung back up again and again. “He’ll come around.” Alice shook her head.  
“No— he chose his side,” Alice coughed into Siria’s chest as she tried to choke back her sobs. “Daughter of a Death Eater,” she spat.  
Siria didn’t know what more to do than hold Alice and let her cry. Even Hermione probably wouldn’t know what tell Alice. How do you comfort someone that ran away from home because their parent is a Death Eater? What do you tell someone whose parent picked Voldemort over them? 

“Strong as we are united,” they parted their wands and Siria patted down her black slacks. She checked the collar of her midnight violet button up in the mirror. Hermione reached under her bunk for her dress shoes. Patricia placed her hands on Siria’s shoulders to stop Siria’s pacing.  
“You are making the others anxious,” said Patricia.  
“I’m anxious,” said Siria.  
“It is fine to be anxious, but do you remember what we talked about?” Patricia’s voice was soft, calm, and level. “Is there something you can do about what’s making you anxious?”  
“No,” Siria tapped her foot as she dropped to a slouch.  
“Is there something one of us can do about it?”  
“No,” Siria’s foot tapped faster.  
“Do you feel your anxiety may impair your judgement?” Patricia asked. Siria looked to the chandelier and grumbled.  
Cassius handed Siria a metal water bottle. She glared at it, but accepted it and took a sip. For a moment, she continued to tap her foot. Siria took a second sip, then a third, and her tapping stopped. “Thanks,” Siria grumbled.  
“Looks like peer counseling is helping after all,” said Maddy. She looked to Alice, who rolled over on her bed. Chloe had suggested peer counseling when they started at Moony & Padfoot as a way to problem solve adjustments to their internships. Mrs. Weasley urged them to try it at home. Wednesdays at work they spent the hour before lunch in an office at Moony & Padfoot with their on site therapist to guide them. Saturday afternoons they collected in the kitchen for their own. What Chloe, Mrs. Weasley, and the Moony & Padfoot therapist didn’t know was that the group self medicated.  
They used Cheering Charms on each other to lift the mood; Alice usually declined because even Hermione’s Charm only lasted a few hours. Cassius make Calming Draughts to mediate Siria’s unexplained rage or her ease her anxiety and his own paranoia. Everyone except for Fred and George had needed at least one Sleeping Draught. Fred and George had experimented with an Invigorating Draught that could keep the drinker awake on long lights, but none of the attempts had been successful yet.  
Hermione swung the silvery blue tie around Siria’s neck and beamed at her. “It’s going to be okay,” said Hermione as she tied the tie. “Chloe is a Squib, so there really isn’t anything to say on it. We aren’t even needed. If anything, we’re just accompanying them.” Hermione unnecessarily smoothed the shoulders of Siria’s shirt. “Don’t you look smart?”  
“You saying I don’t usually?” Siria teased. Hermione tugged on the tie then left to help Ron pick one out for his navy button up.  
“Your slacks have pockets!” Maddy cried as Siria’s hands slid into her slack pockets. She shrugged, hands still in pockets.  
“My dad and his sometimes boyfriend co-own a fashion company, even my dresses have pockets,” said Siria. Maddy tsked and stuck a finger in Siria’s back pocket.  
“Real ones here, too.” Maddy sighed.  
“Hermione just fixed Siria’s tie like they’re an adorable married couple and you want to talk about pockets?” Alice asked. Siria stiffened as the eyes in the room fell on Siria.  
“You see a wife fixing her wife’s tie, I see…” Siria paused, “I see Inigo fixing Fezzik’s.”  
“You’re obsessed with that movie,” Alice rolled her eyes. Siria shrugged.  
“All three of my dads love it and, one of these days, I’ll read the book too,” said Siria.  
“Moony, Padfoot and Prongs?” Fred asked.  
“Love that movie?” asked George. Siria scratched behind her ear.  
“I dunno about Prongs,” she muttered, “I was talking about Hagrid.”  
Sirius called for them, from downstairs, and Hermione, Ron, and Siria met him, Chloe, and Remus in the entryway. Chloe’s hair looked like she used mud to dye it; it was dark brown with spots where the color was slightly lighter or darker that didn’t look intentional at all. Her nails were painted with clear polish and she was only wearing foundation.  
Once they were all on the Underground train, Siria turned to Sirius. “Why can’t we hop on over or get there in a flash?” She asked as a Muggle environment friendly version of “Why can’t we Apparate or use Floo Powder?”  
“The subway is a perfectly normal way of travel and we could use the view,” Sirius replied. Siria sighed and knew he was saying “It’ll look better to take the Muggle way.”  
“What do you want for your birthday?” Sirius asked when they got off the train.  
“For this to be over and things to be fine,” said Siria. “I mean it,” she insisted. Hermione shifted her bag, so the metal water bottle with the Calming Draught would catch Siria’s eye. Siria shook her head. “So, just get Chloe’s heritage clear, I guess,” said Siria. Sirius patted her hair as they approached a phone booth.  
Remus opened it up and wedge himself into a corner. Sirius followed and ushered them inside. Somehow, all of them fit, but Siria stood before the broken looking receiver. “Um, dad?” She finally asked.  
“Dial six, two, four, four, two,” he told her. Siria looked at the cut cord of the receiver and its ancient dial. She had only seen phones like this in old movies, but that was enough.  
When the final two whirred back into place, a voice spoke into the box. “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business,” the automated voice prompted (B5. 126).  
“Sirius Black, Siria Potter-Black, Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley, accompanying Chloe Causer for proof of heritage hearing,” said Sirius. The voice instructed them to fix their badges to the front of their robes then present their wands at the security desk. [B5, 125-126].  
The metal chute where coins were normally returned spat out six, silver square badges, which Siria handed out after she pinned her own to the breast pocket of her blazer. There was a shudder. Hermione stumbled forward, as the phonebooth sank into the street. Cooly, the voice wished them a pleasant day. [B5, 126]  
Siria caught the last bit of light flash into Sirius’s anxious silver eyes. She slipped the water bottle from Hermione’s tote and took a gulp. When gold light broke in from the bottom of the booth, she took another gulp (B5, 126). The Calming Draught was tucked back into Hermione’s bag and well in Siria’s system when they stepped out of the booth.


	5. The Hearing

**The Hearing**   


Sirius directed them through the Ministry and past a large, gold fountain of statues. Hermione glared at it. “Can you believe them?” she hissed to Siria and Ron, who looked back.  
“That the money goes to St. Mungo’s?” Ron asked.  
“The poor house elf,” said Hermione. Like a fool, Siria searched for a house elf, until she actually looked at the statues, which consisted of a handsome wizard with a fine witch, smiling centaur, and awestruck house elf. [B4, 127]  
True to his role as face of the party, Sirius stepped up to the man behind the security desk. Siria leaned against the counter, with her back to the security person. She kept her head down, at an angle that kept her bangs over her scar. They handed their wands, one at a time, over the counter. The wand would be placed on what looked like a postage scale, which would print out a ticket, the ticket was impaled on a small spike, then their wand would be handed back (B4, 123).  
They followed Sirius to a section of lifts, where he loaded them into the first one that opened. Hermione watched the enchanted paper planes that flew in and out of the lift as they rode lower and lower. With each floor, a cool voice, similar to the phonebox would tell them what level, departments, and which offices there were. [B5, 129]  
Everyone was silent as they past Level Seven: Department of Magical Games and Sports, British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office. Then Level Six, for Transportation. Siria flinched at the mention of “Portkey” and took another gulp from the water bottle. Level Five, the Department of International Magical Cooperation, made Ron shift on the balls of his feet. That had been Percy’s level, until he took the position of Fudge’s personal assistant. [B5,129-130]  
They rode past the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures then the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. “This is us,” Sirius told them and they stepped out at Level Two: Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The voice told them it was Auror Headquarters, Improper Use of Magic Office, and Wizengamot Administration Services. Ron smiled a little. [B5, 130]  
“Amelia Bones is seeing us,” said Sirius. “It’s a little odd for them to want a hearing for heritage. Normally you just,” but they didn’t get to hear the normal procedure. Susan Bones was leaning against the door to Amelia Bones’s office. She closed her book and gasped at them.  
“No,” Susan told them. “The hearing got changed to old Courtroom ten.”  
“What?” Remus asked.  
“My aunt was worried you wouldn’t get the letter. It starts at eight, just take the lift down,” Susan told them. Siria nodded to Susan and mouthed “Thank you!” as they ran back to the lifts.  
Chloe pushed the button like it would make the lift appear faster. Siria handed her the water bottle from Hermione’s tote. She shook her head. “Trust me, take a sip,” Siria said. Chloe sighed, but drank some as they entered the lift. It wasn’t as effective as taking an entire Draught, but a sip was enough to stop Chloe’s fidgeting.  
“Why is it there?” Remus asked as the voice described Level One.  
“What’s wrong with the Courtrooms?” Ron asked.  
“Nothing,” Sirius lied. “You all will have to wait in the hall, still.” Siria squinted at Sirius with eyes that read “can’t you lie better?” He winced out a smile.  
“Department of Mysteries,” said the voice (B4, 135) . Sirius and Remus roped them out of the lift.  
“Why don’t you stay up here?” Sirius suggested with a shared look to Remus that spoke volumes. “Hermione isn’t used to heels, and all,” he added quickly.  
“I love you! See you soon!” Siria shouted as Sirius rounded down a set of stairs with Chloe. He echoed her words, but panic burst in her chest.  
Hermione handed Siria the water bottle. She finished it off. Siria took a slow, steading breath and looked around. There were no windows on this floor. Though they had been short glances, she had seen windows on the other floors. At the end of the corridor was a very plain, black door. It looked nothing like the door Susan Bones had leaned against, which had been a soft brown with a golden handle. For some reason, the door made her feel uneasy, even with what had been left of the Calming Draught.  
“What’s really the deal with Courtroom ten?” Hermione asked Remus. He gave her a small smile.  
“They haven’t used them since the Death Eater trials,” said Remus. “The last time Sirius and I were here, Peter was being sentenced.”  
“Oh,” Hermione inhaled the word. “I’m sure it’s fine,” she told Siria, but her voice was higher than usual. “So,” Hermione looked to Ron.  
“Department of Mysteries, then?” Ron asked as a change of topic. “Dad never says much about them. I didn’t even know they were down here.”  
“Willow was an Unspeakable, for quite awhile,” said Remus. “Though, that’d be about ten years ago now.”  
“What’s an Unspeakable?” Siria asked.  
“That’s the thing, they’re not allowed to say,” said Remus.  
The lift opened and Albus Dumbledore stepped out. He nodded to Remus, but didn’t acknowledge Hermione, Ron, or Siria. Instead he marched down the stairs without a word. That was the third time, Siria noted, that Dumbledore ignored her.  
“You’re being silly,” Siria told herself. If Courtroom ten was as big a problem as it sounded, then she should rather he go to Sirius. It wasn’t like anything important happened to Siria or that she needed to ask him something. “Maybe he’s mad about Lumos,” a voice inside whispered. Siria slouched against the wall and turned her gaze from the stairs to Hermione.  
Hermione, to no one’s surprise, had brought a book. Ron pretended to read with her as an excuse to rest his head on her shoulder. Remus smiled at Siria. He watched her like he expected her to dash down after Sirius if he looked away.  
“It’s weird that you’re dating again,” Siria confessed. Remus’s smile shook, but pulled itself back on. Hermione and Ron had frozen as if petrified. While Remus picked his words, Siria added more. “It would be fine if you were like ‘hey, we’re dating,’ but you’re all sneaky about it. I guess I don’t get how you can be happy if you’re hiding it. You used to sit right next to each other at meals; now you sit a person or two away and spend half the meal trying to make eye contact.”  
Remus crouched down, beside Siria, on the wall. “When we get back, how about we talk with Sirius together?” Remus suggested.  
“Only if you’re both okay with it, I guess,” Siria muttered. “If you’re both happy sneaking around, then… then I guess it’s whatever, but I don’t want you hiding because of me or something.” She put her head in her hands. “I love you,” she grumbled. Remus patted her hair.  
“I love you too,” he said.  
Through Siria’s fingers, she peered at Hermione and Ron. They both focused on staring at the page, to pretend they had not heard, but were as red as Ron’s hair. Siria gave Remus a sheepish smile. He added, “really, I do,” and some of her embarrassment slipped away.  
When the doors of the lift opened a little bit later, they all stood up. Siria couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling. A tall man with sleek blonde hair and a pale, pointed face stepped off the lift (B5, 154). He was accompanied by a younger copy of himself.  
“Well,” the man forced a smile that did not at all hide his scorn, “what a surprise to see werewolves at the Ministry.” Siria rose, but Remus placed a hand on her shoulder and held her back. She raised herself to her full height to glare at Lucius Malfoy. Her teeth gritted when her eyes flickered to his son, Draco, for just a moment.  
“More of a surprise—” Siria began, but Remus tightened his grip. Hermione had stretched an arm across Ron. The four of them glared at the two who glared back.  
All Siria could think of was that the last time she had been this close to Lucius Malfoy was in the graveyard. He had been one of the masked Death Eaters. Voldemort accused Lucius of having poor faith for believing “Siria Potter” had triumphed over Voldemort. She felt that, given Voldemort’s loss of body and power for thirteen years, Siria earned some sort of victory.  
“Read the Prophet, Potter-Black?” Draco Malfoy asked. Siria leaned against Remus.  
“No,” Siria lied. “My dads don’t want me around garbage,” she emphasized the last word. Remus eased up on Siria. Ron smirked.  
“I suppose they believe that rubbish like the Quibbler?” Lucius Malfoy sneered. “After all, rubbish is gold to other trash.” He shot Hermione a glare. Hermione held Ron while Remus held Siria.  
“You hang onto your Fool’s Gold blood then,” said Siria. “I’m only half and I’m more like Voldemort than—”  
“Don’t you say that name,” Lucius Malfoy hissed at her. Siria scoffed, but they all fell silent at the sound of footsteps so close.  
Albus Dumbledore nodded to Remus, “Lucius,” he nodded, but the lift knew he was there, and opened for him. Draco Malfoy gazed from the closed lift gate to Siria. She considered chucking her shoe at his daft, blonde head, but more footsteps sounded.  
Chloe ran straight for them and hugged Remus and Siria. She kissed Siria’s forehead, then Remus’s and gestured for Hermione and Ron to join them. They did. Sirius, however, stayed to glare at Lucius Malfoy.  
“Free to wag your tail another day then,” said Lucius. Sirius looked royal as he smirked in reply.  
“If you lay with rats, you’ll get the plague, Lucius,” Sirius forced a smile. He extended his arm and gestured for the others to come closer. Remus pressed the button for the lift.  
“You’re such a disappointment,” said Lucius. Siria took Sirius’s hand and glared at Draco from her father’s side.  
“Not the people that matter,” said Sirius. The lift arrived and they stepped in as footsteps thundered up the stairs. 

It was difficult to tell who was most relieved when they all returned to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Chloe, rather than relieved, seemed furious. She stormed down to the kitchen, followed by Sirius and Siria. A sharp CRACK told Siria that Kreacher had Apparated away.  
Chloe spat out a string of tangled insults Siria could not wait to use on Draco Malfoy. She slammed sweet after sweet onto a plate and dove in mid-sentence, as she continued to complain about Fudge. With a growl, she put her plate down and took a seat.  
“I can’t believe that worked though,” Chloe confessed and inhaled a brownie-cookie.  
“Why…” Siria started, but stopped herself and turned to Sirius. “Chloe’s a Muggle, isn’t she?”  
“According to a Saint Mungo’s Healer and the Ministry, she isn’t” said Sirius. Siria pinched the bridge of her nose.  
“We already had to ‘prove’ I’m a Squib once, but it was a lot easier last time. We borrowed Sirius’s cousin’s birth certificate and lined it up with a family tree and a few other things.” Chloe said.  
“Why did you have to prove it before?” Siria asked. She scanned Sirius’s face, then Chloe’s. Chloe’s eyes had bags under them that Siria hadn’t noticed. She skillfully covered them with her foundation.   
“I needed a rather complicated Potion for something,” Chloe said. “It wasn’t the kind of thing Sirius could just brew up. A Healer oversaw someone make it for me then had to monitor me for a little while after.” Siria wanted to ask what the Potion had been for, but felt Chloe would tell her when Chloe was ready to share it. A better question took its place.   
“Are you serious?” Siria raised her voice as she turned to Sirius. Sirius rose to his feet and opened his mouth, but Siria shouted over him. “Potions work on Muggles—we could be helping them with Draughts and the magic community stays a secret?” She cried. “Do you know how many lives could be saved?” She felt the tears welling in her eyes as the fury boiled up. “I’m sick of—” Sirius held Siria by her shoulders and faced her.  
“It isn’t our place,” Sirius said. She knocked his arms from her as she glared over her glasses at him.  
“Isn’t our place?” Siria shouted back. “But it’s your place to help one person when we would help countless?”  
“We can’t save everyone,” said Sirius.  
“Not without trying!” Siria knew she was screaming now. She had heard the footsteps into the kitchen. “What could the Ministry do to stop a viral video, Sirius? We could record us doing any of the practice from this summer— I could go back to the graveyard and cast FiendFyre again. I could show them it wasn’t a ‘gas leak’. They can’t Obliviate everyone!”  
“I know!” Sirius confessed and she paused.  
“Then why?” Her voice fell to a tremble as her teeth chattered. He opened and closed his mouth. Siria shook her head as she turned away from him. Her head continued to shake while she walked toward the stairs.  
“I— I forbid you from posting about it!” Sirius said when Siria’s hand touched the stair rail.  
“You forbid me?” Siria scoffed, her ears ringing with disbelief. Hermione grabbed Siria’s wrist and tugged. “Sirius Has-Broken-Every-Rule Black—” Hermione tugged again and Siria pried her wrist away.  
“You’ll be expelled or worse!” Sirius argued.  
“You’re an idiot!” Siria cursed and stormed up the stairs. The crowd that had gathered parted.  
She stomped all way to the attic. There would be no point in being in her communal room. If anything, someone might try to sneak a Cheering Charm on her. Siria shook her head. She roared into the dusty attic.  
Four years ago, Hagrid had told Siria that Muggles couldn’t know about magic because they would want magic solutions for their problems. She had accepted it without question. For four years it made perfect sense. Naturally, Muggles need to solve their own non-magic problems in their own non-magic way.  
Siria ignored the rattles from the writing desk and shot glances to the Muggle comic books Sirius had in an open box. She poked in and they weighed down her heart. Would Muggles really act like they had before? If the Magic Community reached out with cures and solutions, would there be witch hunts? Wouldn’t Muggleborns be better off? She searched the cover of the comic as if the answer was hidden on the page. How could that hurt anyone?


	6. Questions and Breaking Plates

**Questions and Breaking Plates**   


Friday morning, Siria performed the usual ritual with her peers. No one had spoken to her since her outburst in the kitchen the previous afternoon. Though Hermione and Ron kept by her side as much as possible. Cassius left a Calming Draught on Siria’s bedside, but she did not take it.  
POP! POP! POP! POP!  
Siria threw herself to the ground when she entered the kitchen. She’d no sooner stepped in when bursts of micro explosions attacked her. Hermione gasped and knelt beside Siria. Siria could not press her hands hard enough to her ears. She had been too slow again, just like in the maze. Siria pressed her head to the kitchen floor, but it made her heart hammer faster, made her breathe faster, made the world spin faster, made everything—  
Warm and firm, a hand yanked her up by her arm. She kept her hands over her ears. Siria squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Another hand fell on her other shoulder. It was warm and familiar. She cracked her eyes open and the face before her came into focus. A very familiar freckled face came into focus, though she was used to seeing double. George’s face was inches from Siria’s. He was so close she could smell the bacon on his breath.   
“You’re in the kitchen,” George spoke slowly and softly. Under the green of the maze was the soft brown, sponge paint of the kitchen walls. “At home,” George continued and Siria saw her father’s face behind the yellow flash that zipped in rhythm. “In Number Twelve, London,” George said. Siria nodded. Bacon and eggs carried over the smell of grass and Stargazer explosion. The warmth of the kitchen overpowered the cool, crisp air of the maze. This was the electric lighting of her home, not of the low, magic lighting in the maze. She nodded again and glanced over her shoulder. Hermione was here. Ron was here. She was here.  
“Um,” Siria peered around George, who stepped to the side, with a hand still on her shoulder. “Sorry,” she said to the collection of worried faces that looked at her. Her fingers trailed along where Wormtail had cut her face in the graveyard, though Siria didn’t notice, some of the others did.  
“Don’t be,” said Sirius. “I’m sorry,” he held out a trash pin for everyone to drop their popper in. “They make a terrible mess, and all this smoke is rubbish.” Siria nodded.  
“Presents,” Maddy pointed to the center of the table, with a bin of gifts, as she forced a smile. “You’ve got so much to open. There are more, but,” Maddy looked to Patricia, “they’ll be here later.” Hermione held Siria’s hand. She gave her best friend her bravest smile, but Siria only nodded in reply. They sat her at the head of the table, where Hermione crammed a chair next to Siria’s.  
Kreacher brought Siria a small plate with a piece of toast and jam, a sliced banana, white rice, a few pieces of chocolate. She forced a smile at it. Despite the hollow weight in her stomach, she didn’t feel like eating. Siria picked at the plate while she opened the gifts.  
One of her gifts was a decorative jewelry box, which Siria used to keep the cards that came with the gifts. She didn’t know how else to remember who they all came from. It was like she was Dudley for a day.  
“A goldenrod,” said Siria as Dennis handed her another box. The flower had been pressed then fixed to the top of the box, under a silver ribbon. Siria wrapped the ribbon around her wrist as she slid it open. Little sugar crystals of white and green sat in the top half, with red and yellow filling the bottom. It smelt like apples.  
“There isn’t a card, but it’s fine,” said Mrs. Weasley. She didn’t look convinced.  
“I know,” said Siria. She placed the box beside the other gifts.  
Once everything had been opened, Chloe asked “Now, what would you like to do today?” Overnight, she had dyed her hair electric blue. The bags under her eyes were almost gone and her makeup was back to its usual bright self.  
“Overthrow the Ministry of Magic and make the Wizarding World public,” said Siria, not that anyone was able to hear it all. Groans and shouts of disapproval started at the very first word.   
After Mrs. Weasley and Sirius had finished scolding her, which Siria sat through quietly, she sighed. “Well,” said Siria, “I suppose if what I want for my birthday is really so out of questions, perhaps you’d be willing to grant something else?”  
“One thing,” said Sirius. “Nothing to do with overthrowing or making anything public.”  
“I suppose that’s fair,” Siria pretended to think. “Guess I’ve got to think small… oh!” She smiled and perked up. “Let me joinTheOrderofThePhoenix.” Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“Absolutely not!” cried Mrs. Weasley. “You’re far too young.”  
“That’s what you said when I was fourteen,” said Siria. “If you continue to keep me out, I’ll...” Siria glanced to Hermione and Ron, then to Fred and George, Alice and Cassius, Maddy and Patricia, and to Cedric. Siria sat up in her chair. “I’ll form my own Order.”  
“You’ll do not such thing,” said Mrs. Weasley.  
Siria stood up. “Of the people in this room, only two have been face-to-face with Voldemort,” she ignored the shudders at the name, “and neither of us are allowed in— despite one of us being of legal age.”  
“Cassius will be allowed when he finishes school,” said Remus.  
“Then I’ll test out,” said Siria. “Exceptions to take O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s early can be granted.”  
“Siria,” said Sirius. “What do you actually want?”  
“To fight… fine,” Siria sighed and sat back down. “I want to know everything.”  
“You already do” Sirius said, but she knew this was a lie.  
“I don’t know what you’re guarding, what the prophecy Barty Crouch, Jr. mentioned says, who I can trust at school, what Voldemort is up to— don’t give me that look” she told Sirius. “He has to be up to more than getting the ‘like weapon’ and recruiting people. I’d believe those two things can keep Voldemort busy when I stop being able to walk, talk, and chew gum.”  
“Fine.”  
“No!” Mrs. Weasley told them. “Dumbledore has already said you may have told her too much. He insisted that she only be told what she needs to know” (B5, 89-90).  
“Who is Dumbledore to decide what I need to know?” cried Siria.  
“Molly, you are not her mother,” said Sirius.  
“I am as good as!” Mrs. Weasley argued and Siria’s face flushed (B5, 90).  
“You aren’t the only one with Siria’s best interest at heart,” Remus reminded Mrs. Weasley (B5, 90).  
“They’re too young,” said Mrs. Weasley.  
“Mrs. Weasley, I don’t want to argue with you, but I cannot agree,” said Siria.  
Hermione placed her hand on the table and Siria held it. Courage filled Siria. Conviction filled her. She nodded and gave Hermione’s hand a squeeze.  
“Voldemort didn’t care when I was one or eleven. He didn’t care when he tried to kill Colin with a basilisk when Colin was eleven or that I was twelve. Voldemort didn’t care that I was fourteen in that graveyard or that Cassius was still in school. He didn’t care and he could not care any less now,” said Siria. “If you insist on keeping us out of the Order of the Phoenix, we’ll make our own.”  
“Here, here” said Fred and George chorused.  
“You will not!” said Mrs. Weasley.  
“They will,” Chloe said and was surprised when Mrs. Weasley, Remus, and Sirius looked at her. “I mean, If you tell her ‘no’ she’s going to do it even if she didn’t want to in the first place. I told her ‘don’t use that color’ and she wore it for a week.”  
“She gets that from you,” Mrs. Weasley told Sirius. Sirius scanned the eager faces in the room until his kind grey eyes rested on his daughter.  
“The prophecy is over and done with,” Sirius said. “It’s completed, so hearing it won’t change anything. We are guarding what Voldemort wants, and he wants something that can’t help him at this point.”  
“Then why are you guarding it?” Siria asked.  
“Well, it’s fun to stop people getting what they want,” Sirius said. Siria and Hermione exchanged a look.  
Hermione’s face read “this is going nowhere,” and Siria agreed. If they could just read his mind or talk telepathically to form a strategy. Siria tightened her grip on Hermione’s hand. Hermione gave a single, small nod.  
“I know you’re guarding the prophecy,” Siria guessed with all the confidence she could muster.  
“That’s it!” Mrs. Weasley shouted, not to Siria, but to Fred and George. “Hand them over,” and she stuck out her hand. “Clearly some of your ears escaped the raid.”  
“Mrs. Weasley,” Siria said, “you can take them, but I’ll give Fred and George more money.”  
“You will not,” Sirius told her. Siria cocked her head up.  
“I will. You’ve made me learn about finance and investments— well, I’ve chosen to invest in Fred and George.”  
“If the prophecy has been completed, why does,” Hermione swallowed, “why does Voldemort still want it?”  
“He doesn’t,” Mrs. Weasley lied.  
“So it hasn’t been completed,” Siria glared over her glasses, at Sirius.  
“Okay,” Chloe got to her feet. “Siria, dear, clearly they can’t tell you and you don’t want to be lied to. Next question?”  
“Who can we trust at Hogwarts? There’s Hagrid, McGonagall, and Dumbledore,” Siria listed.  
“And Snape,” said Remus, but Siria rolled her eyes.  
“But what about Flitwick and Sprout?” asked Siria.  
“They aren’t officially in the Order, but you can trust them if you need help,” said Sirius.  
“Why not?” Ron asked.  
“Dumbledore can’t have every teacher in Hogwarts as part of the Order,” Remus explained. “What would happen if someone was tortured for names or actually a double agent?”  
“Like Snape?” Siria asked.  
“Professor Snape is on our side,” said Mrs. Weasley.  
“I’ll believe that about as much as I’d believe Draco Malfoy is,” said Siria. “Dumbledore is welcome to do as he pleases and believe who he will, but I am too.” Mrs. Weasley sighed.  
“What’s wrong with Snape?” Chloe asked. “Isn’t he the bloke that made my Draught?”  
“He what?” Siria asked and looked to Chloe then Sirius. Sirius grimaced like he would bite off his tongue and gave a single, short nod. “Okay…” Siria clicked her tongue. “Well,” she thought, “well, one good deed doesn’t make him not a huge,” and Siria swore as Chloe had the day before.  
When Mrs. Weasley finished her outburst at Siria’s language, Hermione pointed out it was two good deeds. “The counterjinx on your broom, in the first year.”  
“Which didn’t even work. Really it was your good deed of setting him on fire,” said Siria.  
“Hermione,” gasped Mrs. Weasley. Hermione blushed furiously and Siria gave her hand another squeeze.  
“It was to protect me. More importantly, I still don’t know where Hagrid is,” she said. “Not really.”  
“That’s for the best,” Remus assured her. “Now, Chloe actually planned a day out for you— plate breaking and cafes. We made a lot of arrangements to get us all here, so why don’t you get ready?” Sirius nodded and Siria knew that was really the end of it.  
When they were upstairs, Fred and George sat down on the first bunk, which was Hermione’s. “Didn’t really learn anything new,” George said.  
“Except for what they’re guarding,” said Fred as the others filtered in. Hermione closed the door behind her. She pressed herself against and gulped at the twelve faces that watched her.  
“I,” Hermione’s voice cracked. “I think we should keep up our practices!”  
“What else are we going to do?” Maddy asked.  
“No. I mean, when school starts back up,” said Hermione. “I think we should continue, like with the Triwizard Tournament.”  
“What else would we do?” Maddy repeated as she leaned against Patricia.  
“Really?” Colin asked. “Can we come?” He bounced as she sat on Ginny’s bunk.  
“Please!” Dennis added. They looked to Siria.  
“Of course.” Siria told them.  
Ron and Siria exchanged a speaking glance and looked to Hermione. “Hermione,” said Ron, “what are you getting at?” Hermione clicked her tongue quietly.  
“I just think that, maybe, we ought to share our knowledge,” she said. “Like we do with Lumos.”  
“You want to mail out education flyers?” asked George as he sat beside Fred.  
“You already write too much,” said Fred.  
“No. I mean that…” Hermione examined Siria’s face then Cassius’s.  
“Hermione, who is going to want to learn from ‘The Girl Who Lied and her Slytherin Senior student’?” Cassius asked.  
“You’re still on that?” Ron and Siria asked.  
“No one is going to want me or Cassius to teach them,” said Siria.  
“What about all those gifts?” Hermione asked. “People believe you. We got your interviews out in time to combat the Ministry and the Daily Prophet before they could even make a statement. The Stargazer showed people the truth. Only people too scared to accept it are against you.” Hermione extended her hand, which had been absently drawing circles on the door.  
Ron looked to Siria with a face that read “you don’t have to.” Hermione fixed her determined round eyes on Siria. Siria peered over her shoulder, to Cassius. He shrugged.  
“You said that you’d form your own Order if you couldn’t join,” said Hermione. “We wouldn’t be overthrowing the Ministry or running off to fight Voldemort,” she stiffened at the name, even though she was the one that said it, “but we would be ready to face him.” Siria rolled her head back and sighed. “It’s what the Sunday study group started as,” Hermione reminded her. “You— just, just think about it, okay?” Hermione requested.  
“Fine,” Siria groaned and clapped her hand into Hermione’s. “I’ll think about it.”

There was a magenta haired stranger with a heart shaped face in the entryway when they came downstairs. Remus introduced her as Nymphadora Tonks, but she immediately requested to be called Tonks. “You would too if your fool of a mother named you Nymphadora,” she said (B5, 49).  
“I know you,” Siria told the stranger beside Tonks. She had seen the man before, but couldn’t quite place him.  
“Dedalus Diggle,” he said and dropped his top hat in his excitement (B5, 49).  
“They’re here to be part of your guard,” said Sirius, “on Dumbledore’s orders.”  
“Are you saying any time Siria or I want to go outside, we need a small army?” Cassius asked.  
“Until you’re back at school,” his father told him. Cassius and Siria eyed each other.  
“Let’s go!” Chloe urged and ushered Siria toward the door. “You’re going to hate this,” Chloe winked at Siria. “I know how much you love to preserve things and keep them tidy.”  
“Thanks,” Siria said as they stepped out.  
“Thank you,” said Chloe. She combed Siria’s bangs with her fingers. “Siria, you’ve got good intentions and they’ll come through.”  
“Hermione’ll totally become Minister of Magic when we grow up, and I’ll go public,” Siria promised. Chloe gave her a gentle smile.  
“For now, just be a teenager— go break some stuff and fall in love,” Chloe told her.  
They walked a few blocks to a little hole in the wall. With the boarded up windows and muck filled mortar, no one guessed it was the place, or even in business. Chloe thrust her shoulder against the door to get it open. The lot of them loaded into the room, where only half the lights were on.  
“Been awhile,” a woman with long, dark braids past her back smiled at them. “Good to see you, Chloe.”  
“Becca, you beautiful boss,” Chloe kissed Becca’s cheeks, but Becca rolled her eyes.  
“Rooms sixteen to twenty, all the way at the end,” Becca said.  
“Thank you,” Chloe smiled and waved for them to follow her down a dark hallway that led to the back. “Washroom,” Chloe pointed to a door halfway down the hall. “Five to a room, if we can, and try to take turns,” she said.  
Ginny, Maddy, and Patricia took the first room with Remus and Tonks. Alice, Cassius, and Cedric went into the second with Dedalus Diggle and Mr. Warrington. Hermione, Ron, and Siria in the third with Chloe and Sirius. Mrs. Weasley took the twins and Creevey brothers to the final room.  
Each room had a counter a few steps into the room. There were safety goggles, ear protection, and gloves under the counters. Beside the counters, each room had a bin of glass plates, cups, bowls and trinkets.  
Chloe double checked Siria’s safety gear then handed her a plate. Siria chucked the plate as hard as she could. She couldn’t help the smile that grew with each shatter. For a moment, Siria forgot about the maze and the graveyard. She was just a girl, breaking things with her friends.

Siria plopped down beside Hermione, who pretended to pay Siria no mind. Hermione turned the page of her book. Siria eyed the page as she snuggled to rest her head on Hermione’s arm. “So,” Siria started as Hermione began as well. The two stared in silence.  
“Have you given it any thought?” Hermione finally asked.  
“Muggle studies?” Siria asked at the picture in the book. “Hard pass. I want less classes, not more.” Hermione closed the book and rested it on her chest.  
“Teaching,” said Hermione. Siria shrugged.  
“I mean, if Cassius is cool with it, I’m down to help, but I’m not really teaching material.”  
“You’re absolutely teaching material,” Hermione did not mean to sit up, so she eased herself back down quickly.  
“Doped up on a Calming Draught or Cheering Charm, maybe. Did you forget what happened in the kitchen?” Siria asked. “I’d be a wreck in a class of noise like that.”  
Hermione leaned her head against Siria’s. “Well,” said Hermione, more to herself than Siria, “there are… but I suppose…” Siria let out a small giggle, as Hermione continued to think aloud. “I mean, that really might work,” Hermione said. She tapped Siria’s shoulder, hopped out of bed, and hurried out of the room. Siria sighed and climbed into her own bunk.  
“You know,” said Alice, “I’ve noticed that she does that a lot, doesn’t she?”  
“It’s the surest sign that Hermione’s really onto something,” said Siria. “She was like that with the Chamber of Secrets and Rita Skeeter.”  
“Would you really teach people, if Cassius agreed too?” Alice asked. Siria shrugged and plopped down on her bunk.  
“Even if he didn’t, if that’s what Hermione or Ron really want me to do, I would.”  
“You must really love them,” Alice smiled and Siria couldn’t tell if she was being teased or not.  
“You can’t not love them— we beat a troll together at eleven, Ron sacrificed himself the same year, and Hermione saved our lives. Then Ron went into the Chamber of Secrets with me; Hermione figured out the real Heir of Slytherin and that there was a basilisk. Next year, they protected me from Peter Pettigrew, known murderer. To say I ‘love’ them feels like a huge understatement,” Siria confessed.  
There were countless other reasons she felt it was too small a word. Ron stayed behind for Christmas and Easter Holiday, so Siria wouldn’t be alone at Hogwarts. He snuck her toast when he thought she missed breakfast. Hermione made sure Siria ate somewhat balanced meals and always offered to share her bed. They could ask her for anything and she would find a way to give it to them.


	7. The Woes of Mrs. Weasley

**The Woes of Mrs. Weasley**   


August past in a blurr for Siria. When she wasn’t under Veritaserum or at Moony & Padfoot, she was practicing spells with the others. Cassius had her brew every Potion in his notes from fifth year. Hermione, who was originally as against it as Mrs. Weasley, had moved onto The Standard Book of Spells Grade Six. Ron and Siria were still on Grade Five.  
Owls arrived with their book lists on the Friday before term. Aside from copies of The Standard Book of Spells, there was just one new book: Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard. Hermione’s envelope was a little thicker than Siria’s, and she folded her letter back up. She placed it behind her as she and Siria sat on the bottom bunk.  
Crack. (B5, 160)  
George Apparated right beside Siria, who sat beside Hermione. Fred Apparated on Hermione’s other side. The two girls sighed. Fred and George had taken every opportunity to Apparate since they passed their exam. While it had startled them the first few times, no one was surprised anymore. [B5, 160]  
“We were wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book,” said Fred (B5, 160).  
“Us too,” said Siria.  
“It means Dumbledore’s found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” said George (B5, 160).  
“And that it isn’t Sirius,” said Hermione. Siria sighed at the assigned book.  
“It’s fine,” Siria tried to smile. “I didn’t expect him to.” She lowered the list into her lap and sighed again.  
“You wouldn’t want him too,” said Fred.  
“Look at the other teachers,” added George. Siria shrugged.  
“Remus got out fine,” Hermione reminded them.  
“Did you see the new book?” Ron asked as he opened the door with Colin and Dennis behind him.  
“Already discussed it,” said Fred.  
“You’re so slow,” said George, with a wink. Ron eyed Siria with the look of wanting to say more. She looked to her watch.  
“Snap!” She said. “I told Kreacher I’d help today. Ron, lend me a hand?”  
“Sure,” Ron nodded.  
“I can help too!” said Dennis. Siria riled his hair with a laugh.  
“One extra set’ll be enough,” she told him.  
Down in the kitchen, Kreacher beamed up at Siria. She hugged him and asked if she and Ron could borrow the kitchen. With a slight glare to Ron, Kreacher nodded. “Kreacher will be upstairs. Mistress will call Kreacher if she needs anything,” Kreacher warned Ron.  
Siria dropped into a chair and waited. Ron put the envelope with his booklist on the table and slid it to Siria. She chuckled as she opened the list and letter for the start of term. Her smile faltered when she saw the third letter and the glittering gold badge with “P” that came with it.  
“Prefect?” Siria said with a small crack in her voice. “That’s— well that’s brilliant. I reckon Hermione ought to be prefect too.” She thought about how swiftly Hermione had stuffed the envelope back, out of Siria’s line of sight. “You’re always fair, so you make a great prefect,” she said to fill the silence. Ron stared from Siria’s face to the badge, as if he still didn’t believe it. “If I picked prefects, I’d pick you too,” Siria added. “You’re more than brave enough to stand up to people causing trouble and, unless it’s Malfoy and them, I expect you to be reasonable with people.”  
“You aren’t mad?” Ron asked as Siria handed the prefect badge and envelope back to him.  
“What?” Siria asked with a laugh. “How could I be mad? There’s no one else I’d trust to have Hermione’s back—and no beside Hermione that I’d trust to have yours.”  
“You’d have my back,” said Ron.  
“I’ll have your back, by hexing anyone that looks at you funny,” she smiled. “You ought to tell your mum though. She’ll be over the moon.”  
“R—right!” Ron agreed and nodded to Siria. She watched him climb the stairs.  
Kreacher Apparated to her side with a Crack! He held Siria’s hand. “What would Mistress like for dinner? Kreacher can make Mistress’s favorite potatoes,” he croaked at her. She forced a smile.  
“Everything you make is my favorite,” she said and gave his hand a squeeze that weighed her heart down. “I’m just being silly.”  
Deep down, Siria knew she was being ridiculous. She didn’t even want to be prefect. Sure, Remus had been made prefect, but Sirius hadn’t and neither had James. Hagrid had not even made it far enough to become a prefect. Siria nodded to herself. “Besides,” she told herself, “I break too many rules to be a prefect.”  
Kreacher and Siria brought sandwiches up to the others for lunch. Hermione confessed to being made a prefect. “Of course you’re prefect,” Siria said with a laugh as she sat beside Hermione. “You and Ron are the best choices. I’d be surprised if you’re not Headgirl and Headboy.” Hermione blushed and tucked a lock of her bushy hair behind her ear.  
“Speaking of Headboy,” Hermione said to shift the subject, “Cedric was chosen.”   
“Guess no secret lessons then,” Siria joked, but the room froze. Fred and George looked to Cedric, who seemed just as surprised at them, like they’d very much like to show him Muggle dueling.  
“Why?” Cedric asked.  
“Well, I mean, it was one thing when you and Patricia were the only two prefects, but the Headboy and three prefects sneaking around is sure to set a poor example,” said Siria “or something.”  
“I’ll refuse then,” said Hermione.  
“What?” Ron gasped. “You?” Hermione linked her arm through Siria’s and nodded at her.  
“I’d rather be taught by you,” Hermione said. Her eyes were clear and focused on Siria who blushed.  
“It, it was just a joke,” Siria murmured. “Like, an offhand comment. I mean, I still can’t deal even with clattering pots.” She scratched behind her ear. Siria examined the rug with her head down.  
“About that,” said Fred.  
“We cooked you up a little something,” said George.  
“Consider it a token of our appreciation,” said Fred as he pulled something from his pocket.  
“To our investors,” said George and knelt before Siria with a small, black box. Fred presented his to Cassius and George opened the box and extended it to Siria.  
She examined them from the reasonable distance of her lap. The last thing Fred and George had given her was still stuck on her finger. Cassius had a similar aversion to it. Just like the Extendable Ears that Fred and George had made to listen in on Order meetings or catch bits of what was discussed on the other side of doors, they were fleshy, but an obnoxious shade neon pink. She hesitated and eyed Cassius.  
“They’re not going to get stuck, are they?” Siria asked George with glances to Fred.  
“No,” George waved.  
“The rings are supposed to be,” said Fred.  
“They are ear plugs though, right?” She asked as she picked one up. It took on the color of her fingertips.  
“Let me,” said George. Siria clenched Hermione’s hand and squeezed her eyes shut, but pain didn’t come. He simply secured them in her ears.  
“Can you hear me?” George asked. Siria nodded, with her eyes still squeezed shut and Hermione’s hand clenched. Hermione gasped.  
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Weasley shouted.  
“Sorry, mum!” Called Fred.  
“Tripped” said George. Siria cracked her eyes open. There was a shattered vase on the floor. Ron picked up a desk chair off the floor and slid it back. Siria removed the ear plugs.  
“They shattered a vase and knocked a chair over,” Hermione said in a tone that said she didn’t approve.  
“But Siria didn’t hear it,” said Fred.  
“Did you?” asked George.  
“No,” she locked eyes with Cassius and nodded with a look to say “They work.” He nodded in silent reply that showed he didn’t doubt they did, but hadn’t been sure what they were supposed to do. Siria traced her ear with her fingers. “My ears haven’t been Transfigured or something, right?”  
“Of course not!” said Fred, who feigned insult.  
“Who do you think we are?” asked George. Siria put the ear plug back in their case, where they turned neon pink again.  
“You keep them,” said George.  
“A gift to our investors,” Fred repeated with a grin.  
“Thanks,” Siria muttered and slipped the box into one of her pockets.  
“The practices don’t have to be a secret,” Colin said. “Didn’t you just have to because they were after curfew before?”  
“No,” Hermione shook her head. “There are…” Hermione focused her burning brown eyes on Siria’s as she chose her words with extra care. “People sympathetic to Voldemort, the Ministry, or even both.”  
“Like Death Eater’s kids?” Alice asked. Hermione continued to look at Siria.  
“People like Draco Malfoy’s crowd, who have been raised to think blood ‘purity’ has any correlation to magically ability,” Hermione said.  
“Alice,” Siria said and broke her eye contact with Hermione, “we know you’d burn them to the ground, if you had the chance.”

“Congratulations Hermione & Ron, new Gryffindor prefects” hung on a crimson banner below “Congratulations Headboy Cedric” on a black banner. Mrs. Weasley threw a casual dinner party. The table had been pushed against the wall and the chairs were clustered around.   
A few of the Order of the Phoenix members managed to stop by, including Amos Diggory. Siria tucked herself away, crouched down behind a counter in the kitchen, beside Kreacher. “It’s nothing personal,” Siria told herself; “I just can’t take hearing how it’s ‘so good that ol’ Ced didn’t put in his name’ because ‘You-Know-Who would have been at a real loss when Ced reached the Cup first’.”  
“My word,” Siria heard Amos exclaim, “she’s been staying with the other girls?”  
“Where else would my daughter stay, Amos?” Sirius replied through gritted teeth. Siria poked her eyes over the counter.  
“Are we supposed to be in separate rooms too?” Maddy snapped.  
“I’m just mean,” Amos started. Siria rose up.  
“Mr. Diggory,” Siria called. Sirius’s wide eyed told her that even he had thought she was upstairs. “I’m bi, which means I could be attracted to anyone— not that I’m attracted to everyone. I’m looking forward to a year with a Headboy that gets that.” She stomped out of the room and said nothing at his half-hearted apology.  
She marched up the stairs and stopped on the landing before her room. Siria listened closer, to something she couldn’t make out over the twins’ laughter. She hurried to the top, to the attic, where someone gasped and sobbed.  
There were the cold, dead bodies of Fred and George. Her mind froze. This was impossible. She had seen them just before she hid from Amos. They bought some venomous tentacula seeds from Mundungus Fletcher. She heard their laughs when she was on the stairs. Her mind moved again; she had just heard their laughs on her way up. [B5, 171-176]  
“Riddikulus!” Mrs. Weasley sobbed. Siria saw the open drawer of the writing desk, which had been in the attic for as long as she remembered. It rattled sometimes, but she thought nothing of it, until now. [B5, 169 & B5, 176]  
Out of reflex, Siria reached for her wand. She stroked her shirt. Her jacket was in her room and her wand not far from it. Siria stepped between Mrs. Weasley and the boggart, as Mrs. Weasley let out another sob and attempt at the spell.  
“Kreacher!” Siria called. “Kreacher!” Crack. She knelt down beside the Apparated house elf. “Get Remus, please.” Crack. Siria glanced back at the Boggart, now a dead Percy sprawled before them. [B5, 176]  
Dead Percy became a girl with wild, jet-black hair. Her green eyes were glazed over with death. Blood trickled down the side of her her face. The lightning bolt scar stared back at Siria, as if to say “soon.” Siria shuddered, but held Mrs. Weasley’s shoulder.  
“Leave— Leave it!” Siria told Mrs. Weasley as much as herself. “Remus is— Remus is coming.” Two sets of footsteps stomped into the attic, where one of them froze. Remus stepped before Mrs. Weasley and Siria. Sirius, however, was frozen in the doorway. Even after the Boggart became a moon and after Remus turned it into a balloon, Sirius watched the spot on the floor where the boggart had impersonated his daughter, dead. [B5, 176]  
Remus put a hand on Siria’s face, as he wrapped another arm around Mrs. Weasley. “It’s alright,” he told them, “it was just a boggart.”  
“I see them,” Mrs. Weasley cried, “dead, all the time! I dream about it.” She dabbed at her eyes with the cuffs of her sleeves. “Don’t tell Arthur, please. I’m just being silly.” [B5, 177]  
“No,” Siria shook her head. Remus handed Mrs. Weasley a handkerchief and Siria hugged Mrs. Weasley. “It’s not silly at all,” her voice sounded much softer than she intended. Mrs. Weasley hugged Siria.  
“I’m just so worried,” Mrs. Weasley confessed, more to Remus than Siria or Sirius. “Half the family is in the Order.”  
“And all but Percy may as well be,” Siria thought.  
“It’ll be a miracle if we all come through this… and Percy,” Mrs. Weasley said. Siria hugged Mrs. Weasley tighter.  
“He’ll come around,” said Remus. “It’s only a matter of time before Voldemort,” Mrs. Weasley shuddered, “comes out into the open.”  
“I just,” Mrs. Weasley stroked Siria’s back as if petting a cat, “if something happens to Arthur and I…” [B5, 176-177]  
“We can’t promise no one will be hurt,” said Remus, “but we are much better off than last time. Death Eaters outnumbered us by twenty to one and picked us off one by one. This time, we are preparing and growing as they are.” [B5, 177]  
“Molly,” said Sirius. He took a few steps toward them and focused on Mrs. Weasley’s face. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’d split all the gold in my vault with you lot.” Sirius offered a small, faint smile. “Siria is ‘as good as’ your daughter, and your children are as good as ours, even if we don’t always agree on child rearing.”  
Mrs. Weasley smiled and patted Siria’s back. “Being silly,” she muttered again (B5, 178). Siria couldn’t agree less. As she and Sirius walked back downstairs to join the others, she wondered in silence.  
Not even a week ago, Moody had shown her and Hermione a picture of the old Order of Phoenix. He heard Hermione had been researching the old Order. Moody told them how each of Order members died: Marlene McKinnon and Edgar Bones, whose families were murdered with them; Benjy Fenwick, who they only found bits of; Caradoc Dearborn, who was never found; Fabian and Gideon Prewett, who were taken down by five Death Eaters; Dorcas Meadowes, who was killed by Voldemort himself, like Siria’s parents; and then there were the Longbottoms, who Moody believed “better dead than what happened to them”. [B5, 173-174]  
What could Siria do to increase their odds? What would Hermione do?


	8. Answers and Plans

**Answers and Plans**   


Hermione rooted herself in Sirius’s study through the weekend and was still burrowed away when Monday came. No one blamed her. Since Fred and George had given Cassius and Siria the ear plugs, they were louder than ever. Mrs. Weasley tried to argue against it, but she was the only one.  
After lunch, Siria brought a tray of sandwiches to Hermione. Cassius carried a pitcher of cherry limeade while Kreacher brought cups and napkins. Hermione had covered the room with stacks of books and buried Siria’s trunk under one of them. They put the tray and pitcher on a leveled section of books. Kreacher stepped into the hallways and nodded to Siria. She closed the door and Siria cast an Imperturbable Charm. Mid-bite, Hermione smiled at Siria.  
Innocently, Hermione asked “Oh?” and continued with her sandwich. Cassius took a seat in the rocking chair, while Siria leaned against the bookshelf. She kept her eyes on her purple-laced, black ankle boots.  
“Say we were interested in teaching people who want to learn,” Siria said. “How do we make sure no one rats us to the Ministry?”  
“You can only do one Unbreakable Vow, not to mention how complicated that is,” said Cassius.  
“And I have no idea how many conversations we can seal with Remus and Sirius’s spell,” said Siria.  
Though it took all her will, Hermione finished her half sandwich at a very controlled slowness. Siria, who had seen Hermione inhale almost as much as Ron could eat, knew it was an attempt to calmly address their concerns, which she clearly already thought of. Her round brown eyes were full with a fire even greater than when she formed the Hogwarts Herald. She took a long sip of the limeade then cleared her throat.  
“There are other ways of forming magically binding contracts,” said Hermione. “Just look at the Triwizard Cup. Once someone’s name is put in, they are bound to compete if their name is drawn. Mind you, it’s not very good because names can be forged for entry, but still very binding.”  
“We’d rather not murder anyone that spills,” said Cassius.  
“Of course,” said Hermione. “I’d actually been thinking and, though I can’t test it out, I think I have it figured out.”  
“Can we get people to agree before we talk to them with details?” Siria asked. “I know we’ll have to let them know a bit, but the less people that might rat us out know, the better.”  
“Especially Slytherins,” said Cassius. “Anyone could be a Death Eater supporter.”  
“It isn’t really fair to be overly cautious of any House,” said Hermione, “look at you, Alice, Maddy, and Patricia.”  
“We’re the exception, not the rule,” Cassius argued.  
“Marcus Flint joined the Order— and he’s one of the last I’d expect to,” Siria reminded him.  
“I’ll see about making a contract for people to not discuss what we’re up to before they get details,” said Hermione. “As for how to schedule, I was thinking we would practice at least twice a week.”  
“We practiced more often for the Tournament,” said Siria.  
“Yes, but none of us were preparing for O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s” Hermione said. Siria looked to Cassius, who gave a half shrug.  
“Once in the Chamber of Secrets and once in the Room of Requirement,” said Hermione. “As Siria is the only one who can access the Chamber, even if someone follows us there, they won’t be able to get in. We’ll have to test to be sure, but I think we might be able to get the Room of Requirement to at least keep those trying to spy on us from getting in.”  
“How do we let everyone know when practice is?” Siria asked. “With Quidditch practices and weather, we can’t exactly set it to ‘every Tuesday and Thursday’.”  
“About that,” Hermione rummaged around on the desk. She pulled a shoebox out from under a stack of books. It was full of Galleons. Cassius raised an eyebrow at the box. Hermione wouldn’t suggest paying people to tell others. She pulled out two compacts and a Galleon that had been taped to the lid.  
“Now, I was hoping to just add a second mirror calling option to your compat,” Hermione said to Siria, “but I didn’t want to try on yours until I knew I could. You’d be so upset if you couldn’t call Sirius, so I had him and Remus show me how to link mirrors.” She opened the two compacts, which reflected what the other showed, then clicked them shut.  
“As for the Galleon, I put a Protean Charm on the other fakes, so when the numbers are changed they’ll all change,” Hermione explained. “You just need to decide who’s in charge of the main one.” [B5, 398]  
“Cassius,” Siria said as Cassius said “Siria.”  
“Seriously,” Siria tsked.  
“Yes,” he replied. “I graduate this year—”  
“So you’ve got more experience,” said Siria. “Whoever takes that coin is like, like the unofficial leader.”  
“Which is why it should be you,” said Cassius. “Secret lessons to fight against Voldemort are going to end when he does. Despite the people that think it’ll be Dumbledore, it’ll be you, P.B. You’re training your army against him.”  
“I don’t want an army— I just want people to not be dead,” Siria snapped.  
Hermione held the Galleon out to Siria. Her eyes were lined with words she wanted to say. Siria pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. She glared at the outstretched coin.  
“Why don’t you keep it?” Siria asked Hermione. “You’re way brighter than me or Cassius.” Hermione shook her head.  
“You have something I don’t, Siria, you’ve been there. You know what it’s like to stare death in the face,” Hermione said.  
“And you’ve done it more than any non-Auror in the Order,” said Cassius. “For the Sorcerer’s Stone, in the Chamber of Secrets, and, from what Hermione told me, in the Shrieking Shack.”  
“No one else even needs to know it’s your coin,” Hermione added, “if that helps.” Siria took the coin and dropped it into her pocket with one of the compact mirrors.  
“Whatever,” she muttered.  
They sat down for dinner a few hours later. “What did you do today?” Sirius asked, from the spot across from Siria. She eyed him over the rim of her glasses.  
“Nothing much,” Cassius lied and grabbed another dinner roll.  
“We planned a secret rebellion against Voldemort and the Ministry,” said Siria as she casually slid a bite into her mouth. Ron inhaled his juice and sputtered it onto his plate.  
“Ha, ha,” Sirius replied dryly.  
“No, really. Hermione made linked, magic coins,” said Siria, “and we’re going to train in the Chamber of Secrets,” Siria said. Chloe laughed.  
“Chamber of Secrets?” Chloe asked. “There’s a fitting place for a secret rebellion.” She winked at Siria.  
“If you don’t want to tell us,” Mrs. Weasley said as she piled more cheesy, scalloped potatoes onto Siria’s plate, “then you don’t have to. Your father was just trying to make small talk.”  
“Are you all packed up?” Remus asked.  
“Once Sirius finishes loading my books,” said Siria.  
“Well, Hermione asked for quite a lot of books to be added,” said Sirius.  
“Why are you packing them into P.B.’s trunk?” Alice asked as she pulled another helping of roast onto her plate. “I mean, it’s the smallest of all ours,” she noted.  
“Siria has an expanded trunk,” said Hermione. “Though Sirius has to expand it more to make the bookshelf larger.”  
After dinner, Siria presented her laptop to Sirius. She sighed when she placed it into his hands. It wasn’t the act of handing it over that bothered her; she wouldn’t be able to use it at Hogwarts. What bothered her was that he was checking her “homework”, as he did every week since she returned to Grimmauld Place. When he learned she had completed it all, he assigned more, and all of it was Muggle related.  
She stomped upstairs to select the clothes to be packed. Kreacher had done a fine job of keeping everyone’s things together and most of their things stayed packed. It was more an act of making sure their small items reached their proper owner. In their room, the girls heard Fred offer to fix Ron’s badge to his head with a Permanent Sticking Charm. [B5, 168]  
“Have you seen the Korean spellbooks?” Colin asked from the doorway of the girls room. “I can’t find any.”  
“Sorry, Colin,” said Hermione, “I put them to be packed with Siria’s things.”  
“Can I still borrow one?” Colin asked.  
“You can look at it when your homework’s done,” Siria said as she compared the dresses she hung on the ladder of her and Hermione’s bunk bed.  
“I’ll finish it every day. Come on, they use their hands instead of wands. Do you know how cool that is?” he asked.  
“Colin,” Siria snapped while she tossed some more clothes on her bunk, “it’ll only be in my trunk, and you can get it after Hermione checks your homework.” She placed her hands on her hips, raised herself up, and arched an eyebrow. Colin sighed before he sulked off, back upstairs.  
“Thanks, mum,” Alice mocked Siria, who ignored her. “I know Mrs. Creevey asked you to look after them, but that’s a little much.” Siria pulled a chair out and sat to polish her wand. “I mean, if he wants to read about other magic, it’s pretty hypocritical of you to stop him,” said Alice. She swung her feet over the edge of her bunk. “How many foreign magic books did your daddy buy this summer?”  
“Alice,” Patricia called in her level and cool tone.  
“What?” Alice snapped back. “She runs around acting like their mother, but doesn’t listen to them or what they want.”  
“Alice,” Patricia repeated, “however you’re feeling is fine and understandable. Deflecting it onto Siria isn’t how to deal with it.” Alice scoffed and pulled her feet onto the bed.  
Part of Siria felt that, of everyone Alice could deflect on, she was the best candidate. Afterall, Siria was the serial deflector, she thought while she polished the 11” of holly. Her temper had been her greatest issue, but her deflection was a close second, according to Dr. Rose, the Moony & Padfoot therapist. Siria paused and turned over the back of her chair.  
“Are we still going to do group therapy?” She asked the others. Siria draped an arm over the back of her chair and focused on Patricia.  
“That would be good,” Patricia agreed. “Even if we just do a bi-weekly or monthly CBT check in, see where people are having problems and how they’re succeeding.”  
“We could do it before or after practice,” Maddy suggested. Hermione nodded.  
“That’d be really good. Anyone that comes is welcome to join,” said Hermione.  
“We’re not really fit to help anyone though,” said Siria.  
“But we could write to Chloe and she could talk with Dr. Rose,” said Patricia.  
“And some of us just need to vent,” Maddy added.

 

Dark and early, before even Hermione had woken up, Siria crept downstairs. She tiptoed by a portrait in entryway, which had not been there yesterday, and into the study. Siria watched her father climb up and down the stairs inside her trunk, as he traded books back and forth. It was far from entertaining, but Siria had questions and knew this was her last chance to corner him. As he picked books off of his shelf, she sat up in the armchair.  
“Dad,” Siria asked. Even though the others were sleeping upstairs and the office door was closed, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wondering a few things…” she confessed.  
“Remus and I aren’t dating anymore,” said Sirius. “We still care for each other, but…”  
“Actually,” Siria stopped him, “I was wondering about James and Lily,” Siria pressed her hands to her face to hide her blush.  
“Oh,” Sirius closed his eyes and sighed with quiet relief. He focused on the bookshelf. Siria pulled her knees up to chest, on the chair.  
“Why couldn’t they have been their own secret keepers?” Siria asked. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead to her knees. Sirius gave a heavier sigh that told Siria he knew he would have to answer one day. He closed Siria’s trunk, placed the books down beside it, and sat down.  
“The plan,” Sirius said with his furrowed grey eyes on Siria’s forehead, “was for you to all stay until Voldemort had fallen.” Siria poked her eyes over the tops of her knees and Sirius smiled softly. “Wormtail was supposed to let you all know… so James didn’t poke out for news. We didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing James or Lily, or a stag picking up a newspaper.” Siria nodded with her legs cradled in her arms. He rested a hand on her arm.  
“Why wouldn’t Dumbledore let us do what we’re going now?” Siria asked. “Why couldn’t I spend a week at the Dursley’s then the rest of summer with you?”  
“That was them, remember? Petunia gave the ultimatum of no magic or all magic,” Sirius reminded her. “I hoped she’d give up, but…” Sirius squeezed Siria’s arm, “I wanted you to be safe. It’s why I took over Grimmauld Place.”  
“Dumbledore could have fought them on it,” Siria argued.  
“Maybe he worried that they wouldn’t take you,” Sirius forced a smile.  
“Would that have been so bad? If I grew up here, I would have been so happy and the safest person in the world.”  
“It wasn’t always this nice,” Sirius sat down on Siria’s trunk. “Honestly, we probably didn’t have the house ready until you were four. I probably would have bought a house and forgotten this place.”  
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Siria confessed. “I like it here— and we might not have found the locket.”  
“Yeah,” Sirius patted her hair as the word seemed to get choked out of him.  
“And the prophecy?” Siria asked. Sirius retracted his hand and rose to his feet.  
“I already told you,” he said as he flicked her trunk open. “The prophecy isn’t anything for you to worry about.” Sirius picked up the books and marched them into Siria’s trunk. She leaned over it.  
“But it’s why Voldemort came after me,” she argued.  
“No.”  
“That’s what his ‘most loyal’ servant said!” She shouted into the trunk. Sirius stormed up the steps. He stopped with his faces inches from hers.  
“Voldemort came after you, but he could have just as easily gone for someone else,” said Sirius. “He chose you.”  
Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose and stepped out of the trunk. “I’m about to see you off until Christmas, could we please not fight again?” Sirius asked.  
“We wouldn’t fight if you’d just tell me,” she said.  
“Siria.”  
“Sirius.”  
“I am serious,” he told her.  
“I’m Siria,” she grumbled in reply.  
“What’s done is done and you hearing the prophecy won’t change that,” he said.  
“Then why are you so against it?”  
“It’s what Dumbledore thinks is best,” he said. She scoffed.  
“You don’t even agree with him,” said Siria. “You didn’t agree about the Dursleys raising me, don’t agree with me going back over the summers, don’t agree with how little he wants me to know or—”  
“Siria, I know I’m not the smartest person in the room, but anyone can see Dumbledore is,” said Sirius.” She shook her head.  
“Not when Hermione’s there,” said Siria. For as childish or silly it may have sounded to Sirius, Siria believed it.  
The front door opened and they heard Chloe call. Siria clicked her tongue, but left with Sirius. Chloe had two long pink boxes in her hands, a large makeup box hanging on her arm, and an ear to ear smile. “Surprise,” Chloe read their faces. “What are you two fighting about now? Is Siria’s good heart making her a criminal?” Chloe half-teased as she headed toward the kitchen.  
“He’s refusing to answer good intentioned questions,” Siria tsked at Sirius while they followed Chloe.  
“About his cousin?” Chloe asked. “All I ever hear is that he’s very Dursleyish, whatever that is,” and she placed the donuts on the table.  
“Why would your cousin be like them?” Siria asked Sirius. “Squibs are allowed to work in certain magic fields, if they pass their W.O.M.B.A.T., right?”  
“That doesn’t mean they’ll want to,” Sirius explained “I didn’t even know about him until my Uncle Alphard’s Will. He left me a letter, to go with the gold. Apparently, he was close to his Uncle Marius, a Squib. Uncle Alphard was convinced that another witch or wizard would be born down the line and believed we should take care of them.”  
“Are we going to?” Siria asked.  
“Of course,” Sirius took a maple bar from the box.  
“There’s a clause for it, for when Sirius dies,” said Chloe. “You get most of Sirius’s share of Moony & Padfoot,” Chloe told Siria, “but your future cousin gets a payout of 6%.” Chloe tsked. “Though, as we’ll all die when we’re old and grey, it’s going to be all yours, so study hard.” She patted Siria’s head.  
“You better,” said Siria. “If I lose another parent, I’ll probably lose my mind too.”  
“Chloe!” The tired, but warm and loving voice of Mrs. Weasley greeted as she stepped into the kitchen. She pulled Chloe into a large hug then patted her cheek. “Don’t you look even more beautiful today,” Mrs. Weasley said. Chloe blushed.  
“Molly, you’re too much,” said Chloe.  
“I mean it. When are you going to get yourself a nice boyfriend?” Mrs. Weasley asked, then quickly added “or girlfriend?”  
“Boyfriend, and hopefully before Siria,” Chloe wrapped an arm around Siria’s neck. Siria stuck out her tongue.  
“Fat chance. I’m a hot item,” said Siria. Sirius wheezed as he choked on the bite of jelly donut.  
“That’s what you get for eating two before anyone else got one,” Chloe told him.  
Sirius cleared his throat, but put his donut down on a napkin. “Are you… that is, is it something…” Sirius couldn’t seem to decide on how to say it. “I mean, you are fifteen now,” said Sirius.  
“Dad, I’m kidding” said Siria. She shrugged, “kinda. I’m flat as board, taller than the guys, and one of the only out kids at school, so I’m probably not getting either.”  
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Weasley wrestled into a hug. “You’re lovely and someone is sure to be in love with you already.” Siria blushed and tried to keep her head down when Mrs. Weasley released her.


	9. Luna Lovegood

**Luna Lovegood**   


Remus’s van, which had been magically expanded was even larger. He replaced the rows of seats with seats that lined the van walls, behind a bench for the driver. There was an island bench in the middle of the van and enough room for thirty people inside.  
Chloe grinned behind the wheel of the driver’s seat, beside Sirius, with Mrs. Weasley beside him.  
“What’s with your face?” Ron asked Hermione once everyone was loaded into the van. On the other side of Hermione, Siria glared at Ron.  
“What is wrong with you?” Siria mouthed. Hermione’s blush accented the make up Chloe had applied, but still seemed subtle enough to be a healthy glow.  
“Thank you, Ron,” Hermione said through gritted teeth. To change the subject, Hermione turned to Tonks and Remus, who were on the other side of Siria.  
“Tonks, do you happen to know how Metamorphmagus are born?” Hermione asked. “About all I’ve been able to find is that it’s very rare.”  
“Er, well, it’s supposed to be hereditary, so I suppose one of my mum’s family members was one,” said Tonks.  
“But there isn’t any record of a Metamorphmagi in the Black family,” said Hermione. She sighed, but in a way that told them that, rather than being disappointed, the gears in her head were working extra hard.  
“You know,” said Siria, as she examined Tonks’s face, “I’ve been wondering. How do you know that you look the way you do and that you’re not morphed?” Tonks usually had a heart shaped face, but changed her hair more than Chloe. She often had upturned eyes, but sometimes had deep set or downturned.  
Today she had an oval face with grey, hooded eyes. Her hair was much longer than usual, well past her back. Rather than one of her usual bright colors, it was grey with the occasional strand of black.  
“You know how holding your breath feels?” Tonks said. “It’s like that, but I could do it forever.”  
“If you stare any harder, you might burn a hole,” Remus told Siria.  
“I’s fine,” Tonks said and waved it off. “Bet you wouldn’t mind being a Metamorphmagus.”  
“Maybe, but I feel like the Dursleys would have beat me harder,” Siria confessed as she stroked her finger down her scar. “I’d rather not have more.”  
“Hey,” Ron called to Remus and Tonks. “Why didn’t Podmore show?”  
“Couldn’t tell you,” said Tonks.  
“You don’t need to worry about it though,” said Remus. “Just focus on enjoying the ride to school. Prefects have to patrol the corridors.”  
“Did anyone ever hex you?” Ron asked Remus. Remus’s eyes widened for a moment.  
“Not for being a prefect. Though, if they tried, I imagine James and Sirius would have stopped them,” said Remus. He smiled at Siria. “Couldn’t hurt to have Siria teach you the Shield Charm,” he added.  
“I agree,” said Hermione. “Siria’d make a great teacher, don’t you think?” Hermione beamed at Siria with a surprisingly mischievous smile.  
“I do,” said Remus. Siria blushed. “It is your O.W.L. year. Have you been thinking about teaching?”  
“You could say that,” Siria murmured. To her relief, they arrived at the station.  
Sirius swept Siria under his arm the moment she stepped out. He and Mrs. Weasley escorted Siria right into the station and through the barrier. As much as Platform 9 ¾ took Siria’s breath away, she liked to admire King’s Cross, if only for a moment. Sirius looked to his watch and nodded. There were thirty minutes for good-byes.  
Once Amos Diggory and Moody came through with the trunks, Siria and Cedric loaded them onto the train. The two filled the last three compartments. When they returned, they found the rest their party had all made it through the barrier.  
“See you at Christmas, and I expect a call every week,” Siria told her father.  
“I thought you said phones didn’t work,” said Chloe. Siria pulled her Black Family compact mirror from her jacket breast pocket.  
“It’s a magic mirror,” Siria said with a smirk to Sirius. Chloe looked as though something clicked, but said nothing.  
“I expect to know about half the trouble you get yourself into,” said Sirius.  
“We’ll keep her out of it,” said Fred and he slung his arm around Siria’s shoulder. She rolled her eyes as George’s arm followed and she was squished between the twins.  
“You can count on us,” George told Sirius.  
“Please,” said Sirius, “she’ll get into twice as much for just being near you.”  
Cedric came by and extended his hand to Sirius. “I’ve got to see to the prefect compartment, but wanted to say thank you. If I may, please look after my parents,” said Cedric. Sirius shook his hand. “I’ll keep an eye on Siria, as much as she allows.”  
“I’m right here,” said Siria. She tapped her foot into Cedric’s leg. He smiled at her.  
“I’ll be counting on you,” Sirius told Cedric. Siria tsked.  
“See you soon,” Hermione told Siria. “Cedric said he’ll try to keep it short, but it also depends on the Headgirl.” Fred and George let go of Siria, so she could hug Hermione.  
“You’ll see her soon,” said Fred.  
“Honestly,” George shook his head.  
“Don’t you have business with Lee?” Siria asked with herself still nuzzled against Hermione, in a hug.  
“Alright, alright,” said Fred.  
“Just don’t be surprised when everyone thinks you’re dating,” said George.  
“Though, you’d be lucky to have Hermione,” Fred added. Hermione pried herself away to go to prefect compartment with Ron.  
“Anyone who think you’re dating is an idiot,” Chloe told Siria. “It’s obvious Ron likes her and you love the two.” Siria scratched behind her neck.  
“You’d be surprised how many idiots make it each year,” Siria sighed. She hugged Chloe, who parted the hair around Siria’s scar.  
“You’re beautiful,” she said and placed a kiss on the scar. Chloe tucked her head beside Siria’s ear. “I know you want to help people, but you need to look out for yourself,” she whispered then pulled back. “Stay out of trouble,” Chloe laughed and tapped Siria’s nose.  
“What did Chloe say?” Sirius asked as he hugged his daughter.  
“I’m beautiful & to stay out of trouble,” Siria repeated. Sirius’s mouth went thin, but he let go so she could hug Remus.  
“Call, if you need us,” said Remus. “Remember, mind what you write and no codes.”  
“I know,” she rolled her eyes. “I love you too.” She hugged Tonks. “I hope I get to see more of you, it’s been fun,” she said.  
“It’s been brilliant,” said Tonks. “Keep your head up.”  
The whistle sounded. Mrs. Warrington hugged Siria and, in her effort to hug everyone, Mrs. Weasley hugged Siria twice (B5, 183). The doors were closing. Sirius unnecessarily hoisted Siria onto the train. He picked Dennis up and put him in Siria’s arms.  
“I love you!” Siria shouted over the slammed doors and whistle. “See you soon!”  
“Thank you!” Dennis and Colin called.  
“See you next summer!” said Dennis.  
“Be safe!” Siria insisted as she rushed Colin and Dennis inside.  
“You too!” Sirius called. “I love you!” She heard just before the door closed.  
“I’ll be the last compartment,” Siria told the Creevey brothers. “Cassius is across the hall from me, if you need us.”  
“Can’t we join you?” Dennis asked.  
“You’ve been glued to me all summer,” said Siria, “but you hardly even wrote your friends.”  
“But we’ll see them all year,” Colin argued as they walked down the train corridor.  
“What are you going to do when I graduate? Only talk to each other?” She asked.  
“I don’t mind,” said Dennis, but a girl his age slid open a compartment door behind them. She called for him. He eyed Siria for a moment, but went to join the second year girl. Colin was called a few doors after and gave in.  
It was for the better, Siria thought. She got hushed whispers with each compartment she walked by (B5, 184). Siria raised herself as tall as she could. Her heels were much shorter than Chloe’s, but she focused on the end of the corridor, as Chloe told her, and strutted all the way down to the end of the train.  
Neville was at the end of the hall, with his toad and his trunk. “Hi Siria,” Neville uttered. “They’re all full.” (B5, 185)  
“Don’t be silly,” Siria laughed. She slid open the door to the compartment she had stashed her, Hermione’s, and Ron’s things.  
Ginny smiled at Siria, but the other person caught her eye. Luna Lovegood had a copy of the Quibbler, upside down. Her protuberant eyes glanced over the magazine, to examine Siria and Neville as they stepped in (B5, 185). Siria waved to Cassius as she closed the compartment door. Cassius pointed to the crack he had left when he closed his door, so Siria mirrored it. She supposed they’d be better to able to hear trouble, which was sure to come for her.  
“Hello, Luna,” Siria greeted as she sat across from Luna and beside Neville. Luna peered over the top of her magazine and examined Siria’s scar. Siria gave an awkward smile.  
“You’re Siria Potter-Black,” she said (B5, 185). “Last we spoke was the Yule Ball.” Her voice was as dream filled as ever.  
“It’s good to see you too,” Siria replied, though she wasn’t sure where Luna was going with the conversation. “That’s a nice necklace,” she referred to the butterbeer bottle caps Luna wore around her neck (B5, 185). Luna’s dirty blonde hair framed it.  
“Daphne Greengrass was quite upset when you left early,” Luna said. Siria had not noticed until now how little Luna blinked (B5, 185). She supposed Luna’s wand just sitting behind her ear, like a pencil, kept her focus more (B5, 185).  
“I doubt it,” Siria muttered. She couldn’t picture Daphne upset.  
“I heard her,” said Luna. Siria shifted in her seat.  
“Oh” Siria said. She waited for Luna to return to her attention to the Quibbler.  
Siria looked across the hall, to Cassius’s compartment. She was sure Daphne was there, but doubted she would be upset. For as much as Siria had a temper, Daphne was composed. Daphne was probably as collected as Patricia.  
“Thanks for the book,” Neville told Siria. Siria’s eyes widened for a moment. “I’d been wanting it for awhile. I’m glad we share a birthday. Yours is the only one I remember on time.”  
“Oh, yeah,” Siria said. She had completely forgotten Neville’s birthday, again. It sounded like Sirius remembered and sent something on her behalf. Her stomach flipped a little, but she smiled. She didn’t want to tell Neville she forgot his birthday, when he remembered hers.  
“You’ll never guess what my great-uncle Algie got me!” Neville told her and he handed her Trevor the toad. He rummaged through his trunk. He pulled out what looked like a small, grey cactus covered in boils. Neville had a large smile on his face as he extended the potted plant toward Siria. [B5, 186]  
“Mimbulus mimbletonia,” Neville said with more pride in his voice than Siria had ever heard from him (B5, 186).  
“Wow,” Siria beamed. She had no idea what it did or why he was so happy, but didn’t want to disappoint him. “That’s amazing.”  
“I know,” said Neville. “I can’t wait to show Professor Sprout. I don’t think there’s one in the greenhouse.”  
“You’re probably right,” she said.  
“What does it do?” Ginny asked. She eyed the mimbulus mimbletonia with even more caustion than Siria or Luna.  
“Loads of stuff!” Neville assured her, “it’s got an amazing defensive mechanism.” He rummaged through his bag for a quill. Neville raised it over the plant. [B5, 187]  
“Maybe you could just tell us,” Siria suggested as quickly as the words could come out, but Neville jabbed the quill tip into the plant.  
Siria turned away, but was too slow. Foul, green, thick liquid shot from every boil on the mimbulus mimbletonia. Ginny raised her arms to cover herself. Luna shielded herself with the Quibbler [B5, 187]. Their compartment door flew completely open, as Alice, Cassius, and Maddy rushed to Siria’s rescue.   
Alice gagged at the stench of manure that filled the compartment. Cassius covered his snigger with a cough. Maddy waved her wand and the foul liquid vanished. Her eyes were full of pity toward Siria.  
“Sorry,” Neville muttered. “I didn’t realise it would be so…” (B5, 187). Siria handed Trevor back to Neville. She stroked her hair, but the liquid was gone.  
“Thought you were attacked,” Cassius said.  
“Stink sap isn’t poisonous,” Neville whispered as he put the quill and mimbulus mimbletonia away (B5, 187).  
“You okay, P.B.?” Cassius asked. Maddy surveyed the room while Alice returned to their compartment to laugh.  
“Fine,” Siria grumbled.  
“You looked like wet cat,” Cassius grinned. Siria ran a hand through her hair again then realized it was her face that looked mortified.  
“I’m fine now, thank you,” she said and ushered him out so she could close the door back, all but a crack of the way.  
Cedric and the Headgirl kept Hermione, Patricia, and Ron for the better part of an hour. Ginny, Neville, and Siria were trading their Chocolate Frog cards, which they bought when the food trolley came by, when Hermione and Ron returned. Ron dove right into a Pumpkin Pasty. [B5, 188]  
“Bianca Storm, from Ravenclaw, is Headgirl,” Hermione told them while Siria handed her a sandwich Kreacher had packed. “Usual, two prefects from our year and up, boy and girl pairs,” Hermione bit into her sandwich. Siria caught sight of the door across the way slide closed again. Daphne Greengrass’s soft brown hair flowed down her back, as she walked to sit down.   
“Guess who’s a Slytherin prefect?” said Ron, who swept up one of Kreacher’s sandwiches.  
“Daphne,” Siria said, still gazing into the other compartment. She couldn’t see Daphne, only Maddy and Patricia, who was still getting comfortable together.  
“And Malfoy,” Ron spat.  
“Malfoy?” Siria asked as her attention snapped back into the compartment. “Why?”  
“I’m sure Dumbledore has his reasons,” Hermione said, but doubt carried in her voice.  
“Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff,” Hermione said, “and Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil from Ravenclaw” (B5, 188-189). Siria hummed, only half listening.  
“It shouldn’t be too bad,” said Ron. “We gotta patrol corridors from time to time, but we can dish out punishments.” Ron grinned at Siria.  
“Can’t wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something. I’ll make Goyle do lines,” Ron told them. He mimed writing in the air with his face screwed up in pained concentration. In his impression of Goyle’s grunt, he said “I… must… not… look… like… a… baboon’s… backside (B5, 189).”  
Though everyone laughed, no one laughed as long or hard as Luna Lovegood. She collapsed to the floor and gasped for air in a fit of laughter. Cassius and Cedric came to check on them. “I wasn’t sure if it was laughter or screaming,” Cassius said. Cedric came for the same reason. There were tears in Luna’s eyes when Neville helped her to back into her chair. Siria picked the Quibbler off the floor, as Cedric took the seat beside her and Cassius returned to his compartment. [B5, 190]  
“Luna, could I see this?” Siria asked. There was a crude charactercher of Cornelius Fudge, recognizable by his lime green bowler hat. It was the headline that caught Siria’s attention though, “How Far Will Fudge go to Gain Gringotts?” (B5, 190)  
“Baboon’s— backside,” Luna giggled as she nodded.  
After the first three paragraphs, Siria realized the article was rubbish. The sentence “[Fudge]’s had [goblins] drowned, he’s had them dropped off buildings, he’s had them poisoned, he’s had them cooked in pies...” was what made Siria stop. [B5, 192-193]  
“Luna’s father’s the Editor,” Cedric whispered into Siria’s ear. (B5, 195)  
The compartment door rattled open, but came to an abrupt stop halfway. Cedric and Siria peered of the magazine, in time to see a silky black ponytail whip out of sight. Siria folded the Quibbler back and poked her head into the hall. She extended the magazine to Luna and looked at Cedric.  
“It’s Cho,” Siria said. Pink tinged Cedric’s cheeks. “Go after her!” Siria insisted.  
“She dumped me,” Cedric reminded her. Siria cocked her head as she shook it at him.  
“Cedric Degalus Diggory, go after her!” Siria pointed.  
“That isn’t my middle—” Cedric began to correct her, but Siria shouted over him.  
“I don’t care. Go, you mopey boy, or so help me!”  
“Go,” Hermione told him. “At least hear what she wants to say.” Cedric glanced at Siria with a look that said he was unsure, but he patted her arm as he hurried after Cho.  
Siria rolled her eyes as she sat beside Hermione. She wrapped her arms around Hermione’s arm and nuzzled her shoulder. Hermione, who had pulled out the Standard Book of Spells: Grade Six, rested her head on Siria’s as she continued to read. There moment of peace lasted just long enough for Ron to eat another of Kreacher’s sandwiches.  
It wasn’t Cedric’s return that ended their peace, but their usual arrival of trouble. Siria squeezed her eyes shut. “Maybe, if I pretend to sleep, he’ll leave,” she thought. The familiar scent of roses and wood lingered under Hermione’s strawberry scented shampoo. Hermione sighed.  
“Well, well. I’m surprised” said the cool drawl of Draco Malfoy. Siria rolled her head off of Hermione’s shoulder and glared at the doorway. Crabbe and Goyle flanked Draco Malfoy as he smirked at Siria. He had a copy of the Daily Prophet under his arm. Siria knew the edition well. Its headline was “The Girl Who Lied” and it was published the Sunday after the first issue of Lumos, in which Cassius and Siria gave their account of what happened the night Voldemort returned.  
“Does Tom want me to sign it?” Siria asked Malfoy as she rose up with her best smile on. It started out as a forced one, but gained some truth when she learned her heels made her taller than him. “Should I make it out to Tom Riddle Jr., The Dark Lord, or Voldemort?” Siria extended her arm for the paper.  
“What’s going on here?” Patricia asked in her usual level and calm tone, which didn’t at all mirror the expressions of the people behind her. Cassius and Maddy were right behind Patricia, wands by their sides. Alice stood behind them, grinning with how much she would love to hex Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle written on her face. Daphne wore a look of indifference, as she held Astoria behind Alice.  
“Just telling Potter-Black to stay out of trouble,” Malfoy said through gritted teeth.  
“It’s good of you, a prefect, to look out for your fellow students,” Patricia told him. Footsteps thundered down the train corridor, several pairs in fact. They came with voices that jumbled and drown each other out.  
“Is there a problem?” Cut over the chatter and stopped it. It was a short girl with long, dark braids and deep brown eyes. She scanned over the people who had gathered.  
“No problem here,” Malfoy said as he glared up at Siria. She cocked her head up.  
“None at all,” Siria smiled down at him.  
“Then everyone should return to their compartments,” the other girl said. “Prefects, we’ll talk about how to deescalate.”  
Siria peered into the corridor. Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Abbott, and Justin Finch-Fletchley were just behind Lee Jordan and the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The small crowd parted, for Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy to leave, and glared at them as they walked. Cedric returned, with Cho Chang holding his hand.  
“It’s been taken care of, Diggory,” the short girl looked even smaller beside Cedric. She crossed her arms and glanced around. “Return to your compartments,” she instructed. Rather than returning to their own, everyone crammed into Siria’s or Cassius’s.  
“We saw Malfoy coming for trouble,” Ernie told Siria. “Hasn’t even had the badge for a day.”  
“No kidding,” said Justin.  
“I really want to know what Dumbledore was thinking,” Ron confessed. “That prat, a prefect.”  
“Are you okay?” Hannah asked Siria. She examined Siria’s face, which was easy to do because the two were still standing right beside the door.  
“I’m fine. I could take Malfoy with one arm behind my back,” Siria joked.  
The compartment door slid open again. It was Cedric, with Cho Chang still at his side. He sighed at the group of people crammed in. “Alright, clear out,” Cedric told them. “Thank you all for looking after Siria, but now Storm thinks she’s the boss of a bunch of troublemakers.” Siria smirked, but covered her mouth. “You’ll see each other in classes,” he said as he shooed the others out. Ernie, Hannah, Justin, and most of the Gryffindor team left. Fred and George stayed out of pure defiance, until Lee Jordan reminded them about their remaining business.  
“You have quite a lot of friends,” Luna noted in her airy, dreamy voice. Siria glanced through the compartment door windows, into Cassius’s. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode had just stepped out. Pansy glared back at Siria as she marched away. Maddy nodded to Siria, through the window.  
“I suppose I do,” Siria smiled.

Petrified, Siria stood before the usually horseless carriages that carried them up the castle. Two months ago, Siria convinced herself that she was so tired that she was hallucinating. Today, however, she was not tired or hungry. Over summer, her eyes had been checked and her glasses prescription updated. So… why was this still happening?  
Between the carriage shafts were creatures she couldn’t name. They reminded her of horse-Voldemorts. Someone took the skeleton of a horse and stretched a piece of snake-like skin over it. They added wings and eerie, white eyes without pupils. Did she tell someone? No one else seemed to notice. [B5, 196-197]  
Hermione and Ron loaded into the carriage, as usual. Ginny caught up and climbed in with them. Neville and Luna, however, saw Siria staring.  
“Do you… see something?” Neville asked.  
“You can see them too?” Siria asked. Neville nodded and relief washed over his face. Luna gave a distant smile.  
“They’ve always pulled the carriages,” said Luna. “Don’t worry, you’re just as sane as I am,” and she stepped into the carriage. [B5, 199]


	10. The Sorting Hat's New Song

**The Sorting Hat’s New Song**   


The carriages rattled and swayed toward the castle. Siria watched the silhouettes of the strange, reptilian horses pass over the window. Luna said she saw them, but it was that Neville saw them that comforted her. Neville wouldn’t lie about something so… uncomfortable. [B5, 200]  
“Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?” Ginny asked (B5, 200). “How can Hagrid not be back?” Siria locked eyes with Ginny and shook her head very slightly.  
“I’ll be quite glad if he’s gone,” said Luna. “He isn’t a very good teacher, is he?” (B5, 200)  
“Excuse you?” Siria cried.  
“Yes, he is!” Ginny & Ron said angrily (B5, 200). Ron and Siria glared at Hermione.  
“He’s… Hagrid’s very good,” Hermione said (B5, 200).  
“Well, we think he’s a bit of a joke in Ravenclaw,” Luna told them, completely unfazed (B5, 200).  
“You’ve got a rubbish sense of humor then,” Ron snapped. Undaunted, Luna watched Ron like she was reading a Quibbler article. [B5, 200-201]  
Siria tossed Ron another of Kreacher’s sandwiches and looked around their carriage. “Anyone else want one?” She asked. “I swear the Sorting gets longer every year.” Hermione shook her head.  
“Of course they’re longer,” Hermione said as Neville and Siria split a sandwich. Luna accepted one, but to stare at the edible face Kreacher had made. “There are more students.”  
“Oh,” Ron and Siria shrugged to the other.  
“Siria, there was a war,” Hermione reminded them. “Ginny and Colin have years about as small as ours, but the following year had more students. Haven’t you noticed how many students are in Dennis’s year?” Hermione eyed them. “More people were having kids. I imagine this year will be much larger than the others.”  
As usual, Hermione was correct. After Professor Grubbly-Plank settled at the staff table, Professor McGonagall came in. She led a long line of first years, the longest Siria had seen. The chatter of the Great Hall died out when Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat down on the stool. The first years eyed it as though it may attack them. [B5, 204]  
The school waited in silence. Then, at the rip near the brim of the hat, it opened into a wide mouth. It belted out its song, which echoed through the silent hall. [B5, 204]  
While the Sorting Hat changed its song each year, it had not sung one like this. Normally, the Hat would describe each of the Hogwarts Houses and tell the first years that they had nothing to fear. This year, it confessed that, while it Sorts the students because that’s what it was for, it worries that Sorting will divide them and leave them vulnerable to “external, deadly foes.” [B5, 204-207]  
And we must unite inside her  
Or we’ll crumble from within  
I have told you, I have warned you…  
Let the Sorting now begin [B5, 207]  
Though everyone clapped, as they always did, there were whispers in the applause. Hermione’s round brown eyes were large and full of anxiety when they fell on Siria. “Do you suppose there’s a record of the Sorting Hat’s songs?” Hermione asked.  
“Maybe in the library?” Siria suggested. “They had those old Daily Prophets.” Hermione scanned down the table, to see Nearly Headless Nick near the Weasley twins.  
“Why do you want the old songs?” Ron asked.  
“I want to know if it’s ever given a warning before,” said Hermione.  
Professor McGonagall gave a burning look to the students talking in the Hall. She unrolled the scroll of names and silence washed over them.[B5, 207]  
“Abercrombie, Euan.” Professor McGonagall read. A terrified, tiny boy stumbled to the front of the first year students. He put the Sorting Hat over his head. His ears stopped the Hat from swallowing his head. The Hat considered for a moment, in the silence, then shouted “GRYFFINDOR!” [B5, 207]  
The Gryffindor table erupted in applause for Euan Abercrombie (B5, 208), but they weren’t the only ones. Hufflepuff had scattered applause, started by Cedric Diggory. Bianca Storm started at the Ravenclaw table.  
“What’s going on?” Siria whispered to Hermione, who had not seemed surprised at all. She shrugged, innocently, but focused her eyes on the next student, “Anders, Lucia.” When the Sorting Hat shouted “SLYTHERIN” more students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw clapped. There was scattered applause from Gryffindor as well, with Hermione clapping too.  
“Baker, Rosemary” was placed into Ravenclaw. Students from every House table clapped for her. They did the same with the rest of the students. The applause grew louder and less scattered. By the time the Sorting Hat finished by putting “Zeller, Rose” into Hufflepuff almost everyone clapped for her.  
Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet. “To our newcomers,” he said with a large smile, “welcome. To our old hands, welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!” [B5, 208]  
An appreciative laugh came with the applause for him, which ended as quickly as it began once the food appeared (B5, 208). Ron swept food onto his plate so quickly that Siria was almost sure he didn’t know what he grabbed. Hermione barely finished loading her plate when Ron got seconds. Siria scanned across the Great Hall, to the Slytherin table. There were more people in her way than there used to be, but they were mostly much shorter than her. Had there really been that many more students?  
Cassius caught Siria’s eye. “Why clap?” He asked.  
“Hermione,” Siria said, without looking away from Cassius, “why did everyone clap?”  
“Two things, really,” Hermione confessed. “Cedric and Storm are worried about Hogwarts unity, like the Sorting Hat is.”  
“Wha’s ha hecon’?” Ron asked through a mouth of food.  
“You were there and you don’t know?” Siria asked.  
“You understood him?” Hermione asked.  
“He asked what the second one is— I speak full-mouth,” said Siria when she felt Hermione’s eyes on her. “So, what was it?” Hermione turned from Siria to Cassius and sighed.  
“I’ll tell you later,” Hermione said.  
“Later,” Siria repeated to Cassius with a shrug.  
Dinner gave way to dessert. When there was a healthy sprinkle of chatter through the Great Hall, Dumbledore got to his feet. The chatter cleared and Dumbledore smiled at them. Siria yawned as visions of her dorm filled her head and Dumbledore began the start of term notices. [B5, 210]  
They were the usual reminder that the forbidden forest is off limits, Mr. Filch has severaled banned items for the corridors, and the staff adjustments. He did not mention Hagrid at all, only that Grubbly-Plank would be covering Care of Magical Creatures. “We are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” said Dumbledore [B5, 211].  
Siria scanned over the staff table. She had not noticed Professor Umbridge until Dumbledore turned behind him, in the middle of announcing Quidditch tryouts. Umbridge was a very short woman, who looked even smaller beside Dumbledore. It took a moment for people to realize Dumbledore had stopped because Umbridge stood up. The woman was barely taller than Dennis Creevey and seemed the same height sitting as standing. She had mouse-brown hair with an Alice band that matched her fluffy pink cardigan. [B5, 203 & 211]  
Dumbledore was taken aback for just a moment, before he took his seat. Umbridge beamed down at them with a smile of rather sharp teeth. She cleared her voice in a “Hem, hem,” to draw attention, which she had, though not how she had wanted. No one had seen anyone interrupt Dumbledore’s speech before. Professor McGonagall’s lips were pressed to thin they disappeared. Snape’s eyes narrowed so much that they were hardly visible. Professor Sprout’s eyebrows disappeared into her hair. Many students smirked with expressions that read “You don’t know how things work here, do you?” [B5, 211]  
“Thank you, Headmaster,” Professor Umbridge simpered in a voice that was far too girly for Siria to have expected it, “for those kind words of welcome.” She gave another “hem, hem,” and Ron exchanged a look of disgust with Siria. “Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!” [B5, 211-212]  
Siria saw Cassius cover his face. Not one seemed to be smiling. Many of the smirks had been replaced with looks similar to Ron. No one appreciated being spoken to like they were a child. Fred and George already looked mutinous.   
“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!” Umbridge told them (B5, 212)  
“I’ll be her friend as long as I don’t have to borrow that cardigan,” Parvati whispered to Lavender. The two struggled to giggle in silence.  
“Or get makeup tips,” said Siria. She shook her head at the clumpy lipstick Umbridge applied over her cracked, dry lips.  
Umbridge cleared her throat again and began to recite a very practiced speech. Ron tuned out first, with Siria not far behind him. They were tired and full, and Umbridge’s voice was dull and businesslike. Hermione was attentive as ever, but she could focus on Professor Binns’s History of Magic lessons. Siria covered her mouth with a closed fist as she yawned and scanned the Great Hall.  
Cedric Diggory was as focused as Hermione. His face was passive, in a clear focus, where Hermione’s brows were furrowed. Ernie MacMillan’s eyes were glazed over, but he was at least still facing Umbridge. Bianca Storm examined Umbridge closer with every sentence. She seemed to be sizing Umbridge up. Luna Lovegood returned her attention to the Quibbler. [B5, 212-213]  
Across the hall, at the Slytherin table, Cassius’s group of friends listened intently. Daphne stroked Astoria’s hair, as she listened without looking at Umbridge. Alice looked ready to whip her wand out and attack Umbridge. Cassius clenched his fist over his mouth and glared at Umbridge.  
Siria yawned in almost sync with Ron. She didn’t get what all the fuss was about. Umbridge said something like “progress for progress must be discouraged” and “some old habits will be retained,” but Siria was just too tired (B5, 213). She reached to rub at her eyes, but stopped and settled for closing them.  
“Oh, Siria,” whispered Lavender, “that’s lovely.” Siria’s eyes fluttered open. “Close them, Parvati didn’t see,” said Lavender. Siria closed her eyes again and yawned.  
“That’s a good color on you,” said Parvati. Siria smiled and cracked her eyes open.  
“Thanks, Chloe— the woman who designed the Yule Ball dresses and robes—did it,” said Siria.  
Dumbledore clapped. Lavender, Parvati, and Siria looked up to see Umbridge sat back down. Applause scattered through the Great Hall, and showed how few people had listened or liked what they heard. Dumbledore smiled at Umbridge, thanked her, and continued his announcements. [B5, 214]  
“Yes, it certainly was illuminating,” Hermione echoed Dumbledore’s choice of words (B5, 214).  
“Don’t tell us you enjoyed that,” Ron yawned and Siria yawned in reply. “That was about the dullest speech I’ve ever heard, and I grew up with Percy,” said Ron.   
“Illuminating, not enjoyable— I’ll tell you later,” said Hermione. She looked around and sighed. “We’ve got to take the first years to the tower.” [B5, 214]  
“What’s the password?” Siria asked.  
“Mimbulus Mimbletonia,” said Hermione.  
“You’re joking,” said Siria.  
“Naw, it’s some weird plant” said Ron. Siria, unfortunately already knew this.  
The clatters and bangs of people getting up and being dismissed sounded (B5, 214). Siria nodded to Hermione and Ron, as they left to get the first years. She flagged down Neville, who had been with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. Siria linked her arm through Neville’s. It would be easier to catch him that way, or less painful when he pulled her down by accident.  
“Getting a lot of stares today, Ms. Potter-Black,” Seamus noted with a smirk, as they climbed one of the moving staircases.  
“They’re admiring my makeup,” Siria lied. With Lumos and the Daily Prophet, it wasn’t a surprise.  
“If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it either,” Seamus confessed.  
“Good thing you saw then,” said Siria.  
“Gran always said You-Know-Who would come back,” said Neville. “She cancelled our Daily Prophet subscription because of what they’ve been writing about you and Dumbledore (B5, 219).” Siria squeezed Neville’s arm with a smile.  
When they reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, Siria opened her mouth to provide the password. Neville, however, beamed and told them “I’ll actually remember this time— it’s Mimbulus Mimbletonia.” The Fat Lady nodded and her portrait swung open. The four climbed through into the mostly empty common room.   
There were a few students warming their hands before bed, but the usually crowded common room was otherwise empty. Siria took a seat in her favorite armchair, beside the fireplace. Neville took a seat beside her.  
“I’ll wait with you,” Neville said to Siria. The two of them waved and said their goodnights to Dean and Seamus. Siria leaned into Neville’s chair some and dropped her voice.  
“Neville, would you be interested in continuing the late night lessons?” Siria asked. Neville nodded. “They’d be like the Tournament ones, but less focused on Cassius and I learning, and more on us maybe…” she chuckled. Neville nodded the entire time and only nodded faster as she continued. “Even if I’m sort of teaching?” She asked.  
“Absolutely!” said Neville, much louder than he intended.  
A few people turned to look over their shoulders and whisper about Neville and Siria. Fred and George pinned a paper to the notice board [B5, 216]. They winked and Siria, who waved back. The twins headed to their room and the other students returned to warming their hands or went up to the dorm rooms.  
Colin and Dennis sat with Neville and Siria when they arrived. About half the Gryffindors returned before Hermione and Ron arrived with the first years. Neville and Siria rose to meet them, with Colin and Dennis right beside Siria. “Boys, that way,” Ron said with quick wave of his hand in the direction of the boys dormitory. “Girls, you’re in the other one,” he told them. Siria smiled at Hermione as she rolled her eyes.  
“He’s looking at you,” Colin told Siria, who smiled while she scanned over the first years. Enough of them were looking at her to leave her unsure who he was referring to.  
“You’re free to enjoy the common room or head to your dorms,” Hermione dismissed the first years. She and Ron walked to Siria as a few of the first years dispersed. Some remained to gawk at Siria.  
“You’re famous as ever,” Ron said with a bit of a grumble. Siria bit back a click of her tongue and locked glances with Hermione for a moment.  
“If anything,” said Neville,“Siria’s probably more famous.” Siria pressed her lips together in silent struggle. Of all the things he could have said to Ron, that was probably the last thing Siria would have wanted.  
“Ron,” said Siria, “would you mind giving Neville one, when you get up to your dorm?” She stared intently into his eyes until a look of recognition washed over.  
“Totally!” Ron agreed. “Not a problem.”  
“One—” Colin started and Siria placed her hand on his shoulder. “Oh! Brilliant,” Colin smiled.  
“We ought to get up to bed,” Hermione told them.  
“You two especially,” Siria told Colin and Dennis. “And don’t you dare start trouble with that Umbridge woman,” Siria added. “I mean it.”  
“We won’t if you don’t,” said Dennis.  
“I don’t start trouble,” Siria told them. Hermione raised an eyebrow at Siria. “I’ll be good, so you ought to too.” She hugged them, said good night to Ron, and headed up to her dorm with Hermione.  
The first year girls who stayed in the common room followed not far behind. Hermione rubbed under her eye as they climbed the spiral staircase. “Remember to clean the makeup off,” Siria told her.  
“You know, Cedric looked like he was going to sock Malfoy in the prefect compartment,” Hermione confessed. “Malfoy made an offhand comment, but,” Hermione paused and turned her gaze to the stairs as she blushed. “Well, Storm set Malfoy right and he didn’t say anything else,” Hermione smiled.  
“Shame,” Siria sighed. “I’d pay to see Cedric beat up Malfoy.”  
They opened the door of them dorm and greeted the other girls. It wasn’t long until everyone was changed and ready for bed. Siria set up her desk and pulled out two sheets of parchment. She had barely started when Lavender interrupted.  
“Who in Merlin’s name are you writing to?” Lavender asked. “Did you forget something?”  
“It’s just something small for Kreacher,” Siria said. “He wants to work on his penmanship, so we’re writing letters.”  
“And the other is for…?” Pavarti smiled. She leaned over Siria’s shoulder. “What is that?”  
“It’s Korean,” Siria blushed, “I’m writing to Maddy Swelyn’s cousin.”  
“Is he— are they cute?” Lavender adjusted herself. Siria rolled her eyes, but the blush deepened.  
“We aren’t like that, but… yes,” Siria focused on the letter. “She’s very cute, but also very taken.”  
“Lily Moon isn’t seeing anyone and I think she’s smitten with you,” Pavarti told Siria.  
“Thank you…” Siria grumbled.  
Chloe told her to “just be a teenager— go break some stuff and fall in love.” Siria sighed as she cuddled beside Hermione. Could it really be so easy? Could she keep up with her coursework, lead the night sessions, give her all in Quidditch, and date someone? The thought of it all exhausted her. She also had to walk across eggshells around the Ministry woman.


	11. The Marauder's Heirs

**The Marauder's Heirs**  


A much livelier vibe than usually greeted them in the Great Hall the next morning. It wasn’t a surprise, with classes starting on Wednesday, they were so close to their weekend. Fridays were half days for most students, which only added to the weekend air.  
“Why can’t we just enjoy the week and the weekend, then start on Monday?” Ron asked as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. Siria nodded.  
“That’d be nice,” she agreed. She shoveled some eggs onto her plate.  
“I wouldn’t mind Herbology,” Neville confessed.  
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll just forget about today,” said Ron.  
“They won’t ‘just forget’, Ron,” Hermione tsked. She scooped up some strange leafy greens on Siria’s plate. Siria tilted them onto Hermione’s.  
“Siria, set an example,” Hermione nodded in Colin and Dennis’s direction. The Creevey brothers were sitting with some other fourth and second year students. She added more of the greens on Siria’s plate.  
“They’re not paying attention to what I eat,” Siria dumped the greens onto Hermione’s plate with the others. “I don’t like it.”  
“It’s just kale, Siria,” said Hermione.  
“I eat so many vegetables for you, at least let me turn down this one,” Siria argued.   
Professor McGonagall handed out their schedules. Siria groaned.  
“Today’s not that bad,” said Ron. “I mean, Divination might be a laugh, if she stops trying to kill you off.”  
“Look at tomorrow,” Siria told him.  
“We got a break… oh,” Ron groaned. Siria leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed.  
“Yeah. Double Potions, with the Slytherins then the Ministry woman,” Siria noted.  
“But, we’ve got Herbology today,” Neville said with a small smile. “Friday’s light.”  
Cedric Diggory waved from the Hufflepuff table. Hermione waved back and nodded. She put more eggs on Siria’s plate. Siria pressed her lips together, as she was still eating her first serving.  
“How about Friday, for the mini first meeting?” Hermione asked. She grabbed a piece of toast and buttered it.  
“Sure?” Siria agreed. She looked across the Great Hall, to Cassius. “I just don’t have anything planned yet, you know?”  
“Oh, I don’t think we’ll have the lessons yet,” said Hermione. “We have to clean out the Chamber, first. No one is going to want to practice there, if it smells like it did last year.”  
“Great,” Siria sighed and accepted the toast from Hermione. “Exactly how I wanted to spend my first weekend— cleaning.”

Divination was possibly the most bearable session Siria endured. Professor Trelawney told them they would be tested in June, but implied Divination was above such things as exams. They were assigned a dream diary. Ron confessed to not remembering most dreams. Siria did not look forward to writing “I dreamt of a dark corridor with a locked door” for as long as the diary was kept. After Tom Riddle’s diary, she did not want any association with such things. [B5, 237-238]  
Herbology brought another lecture on O.W.L.s. “Before getting too worked up about any subject, talk to the Professor, your Head of House, or Madam Pomfrey,” Professor Sprout advised. “Tests are already stressful for some students and a lot of pressure is put on O.W.L.s. You’ll get more homework than you’re used to, and on more advanced material. Ask for help. You have two years worth of students that have taken theirs already, your families, and your Professors. No one needs to prepare alone.”

“Potter-Black, er, Siria!” Lily Moon tapped Siria’s shoulder. She was so close Siria could smell the citrus body spray, which she hadn’t noticed before. “Hi, Siria.”  
“You can catch up,” Hermione told Siria.  
“What?” Ron asked. Hermione grabbed him by the arm and marched him back toward the castle. Siria chuckled.  
“How was your summer?” Siria asked down at Lily Moon, who was over a head shorter.  
“Fine. Yours?” Lily Moon asked while she dragged her feet. Siria walked much slower than usual to match her pace.  
“Fine,” Siria scrunched up her face.  
“She just said hers was fine,” Siria told herself. Lily Moon’s round face was completely pink.  
“Could I— if— would you like to meet me in the library tomorrow evening?” Lily Moon stammered. “Just the two of us?”  
“Sure,” said Siria.  
“Really?” She asked. “You and me, together?”  
“Yeah. Did you want me to meet you there after dinner?”  
“Yes! Or, if something else would be better?”  
“It’s the library, I think I’ll manage,” Siria smirked.  
“Would you, maybe,” Lily Moon stopped on a step, so Siria paused as well. She felt like a giant. With her heels and the extra step, Siria towered over her. She backtracked and stopped on the step below. Lily Moon bit her lip. “Could we consider it a study date?” she asked. She dropped her gaze to Siria’s boots.  
“I’d love to call it a date,” Siria smiled.  
Neither Hermione or Ron asked Siria anything about Lily Moon over lunch. Siria suspected that it was Hermione’s idea. On their way to Transfiguration, Ron nudged Siria in the ribs. He raised an eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes.  
“I’m going on a study date,” Siria told him, with a large grin plastered on her face. Hermione smiled.  
“Oh, are you?” Ron asked. He had never sounded so much like Fred and George. Siria knocked her shoulder into his.  
“Shush, you,” she told him.  
“Lily Moon sure is short though,” Ron noted.  
“Don’t be silly, Ron,” Hermione said, “Siria’s just tall.” Siria smiled, but looked down and combed her bangs with her fingers.  
“And, she’s not exactly, you know,” Ron outlined an hourglass with his hands.  
“Mate, I’m like,” and Siria made a curveless figure. “Besides, you aren’t curvy either,” and Siria made a mock swing of her leg to trip him, “gangling thing.”  
“Twig,” Ron taunted back.  
“Bite me,” and Siria snapped her teeth, a wide grin over her face.  
Professor McGonagall spent the first half hour of class lecturing on O.W.L.s. She explained that O.W.L.s affected not only what classes they could take next term, but their future. Siria’s stomach turned. If she had to die for Voldemort to be killed, would her O.W.L.s even matter? Remus and Sirius had written hundreds of letters over summer, asking for people’s thoughts on how Siria could grow old and for the piece of Voldemort within her to die when she did. They took over the practice room at least once a week, kicked Hermione out of the study, and had even taken day trips away. Despite their smiles about it, Siria felt they weren’t any closer to a solution.  
“Potter-Black,” Professor McGonagall said, from right in front of Siria. “I understand you’re anxious about your O.W.L.s, but you have the rest of the year to prepare.” She placed a large stack of bound parchment before Siria. “Your father tells me you still can’t make a bridge, but that you’ve finished this year’s spells… again,” she said. Siria thought there was a shadow of a smile on her face. “I’ve added some more spells for you and Ms. Granger.”  
Hermione eyed the bound parchment for a moment before she slid it closer. She turned each page with focused care as she examined the spells. Siria looked to the snail in front of Ron.  
“Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, show we know the spells?” Siria asked. “I really don’t think my vanishing spell is all that good.”  
“Mr. Black informed you vanished a moose, but you don’t think you can vanish a snail?” Professor McGonagall asked.  
“A moose?” Siria heard Seamus whisper to Dean. She scrunched up her nose in her attempt to stifle the blush.  
“But it was kind of small for a moose and he transfigured it, so…” Siria realized she didn’t know where she was going.  
“It was rather large,” Hermione said without any thought. “The most I vanished was a golden retriever, though it was a boulder first.” Professor McGonagall raised a knowing brow at Siria, who sighed. Siria scooted her chair against Hermione’s and stared at the page for the needle to ballista bolt spell. She leaned an arm on the desk and felt like it was going to be a very long day.  
Thunder rolled in halfway through their Astronomy lesson. Professor Sinistra cancelled their practical lesson, which Hermione took as a sign that they should go to the Chamber of Secrets. 

“Okay,” Siria said. In the Chamber of Secrets, lit by their wands, Hermione, Ron, and Siria pulled a very old, worn piece of parchment and a piece of lined paper out. Siria opened the parchment up and Ron took one side. They put their heads together over the parchment as Siria tapped it with her wand and said “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”  
Ink appeared on the old parchment and drew out Hogwarts. Siria’s chest thundered in her ears as her heart raced. Ron found Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom on the Marauder's Map and pointed it out. Hermione unfolded the lined paper and put it beside the bathroom on the map.  
“I have found a secret passage,” Siria said with her map on the sinks in the bathroom. Tiny letters that read “Password?” appeared over the sinks. “Anything in Parselmouth,” Siria said and the words replaced “Password?” on the Map. Hermione squeezed Siria’s hand and Siria nodded. Siria pulled the pen from her ear and touched it to the parchment.  
“I have found a new room,” Siria told the Map. Black ink pulled from her pen and onto to the Marauder's Map. It followed the tip of the pen as Siria drew the path to the Chamber of Secrets. When she drew the Chamber, her name appeared on the map with Hermione’s and Ron’s.  
“Brilliant,” Ron grinned at their names once Siria finished. He patted her shoulder. “Now we just have to make the passage out.” Siria nodded with the parchment pressed down by her fingers. She had done it, she was going to do it. Siria Potter-Black carried on the legacy of the Marauder's: an Animagus and cartographer or, at least, an map editor.  
Hermione pulled Siria’s bag closer. She pulled out a dark green book that was covered in colored tabs. Siria took the book and opened to one of the bright blue tabbed pages. There was a picture of moving hands that took up the top half of the page, with Korean below the photo. Ron picked the Map up. He and Hermione took turns turning the Map.  
“It’s here,” Hermione insisted.  
“No,” said Ron. “It can’t be that way. It’s too close the prefect’s bath.”  
“Well that’s too close to Snape’s office,” Hermione told him. Siria sighed and stared at the ceiling. She hadn’t ever actually seen it before. When she hadn’t been fighting for her life, she had been training to fight for her life. Even when she had glanced at it, she had not seen it.   
Siria extinguished the tip of her wand. It made the ceiling more noticeable in the darkness. “Look,” Siria said.  
What?” Ron asked.  
“The ceiling,” Ron and Hermione eyed the ceiling.  
“It’s the sky…” Hermione uttered. She extinguished her wand. Ron put out his wand. In the darkness, light trickled down from the ceiling. Clearer than through their telescopes, the stars and planets provided a soft glow of light.  
“How?” Ron asked.  
“Salazar Slytherin… synced the ceiling of his Chamber with the night sky,” Siria figured.  
“Wait!” Hermione lit the tip of her wand again. She pressed her nose to the Marauder's Map. “If that’s there… then…” Hermione slid the Map from Ron’s grasp and walked very slowly, in half steps, with glances from the Map to the ceiling. Hermione muttered under her breath in the usual incomplete sentences of “if that’s here… there is… so then…” before she stopped.   
“We’ll want to make it here,” Hermione told them at the feet of Salazar Slytherin.  
“Then that’s where we’ll make it,” said Siria. She pushed her glasses up and took a deep breath. Ron cast Lumos with his wand and hovered over the page.  
“We’re about to one up your dads,” Ron said with a smile. Siria filled her lungs and nodded.  
“Let’s hope we’ve got this right.”


	12. Professor Umbridge

**Professor Umbridge**  


Thursday morning brought the news that Angelina Johnson had been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain (B5, 224). She booked the pitch for Friday evening, for Keeper tryouts. It also brought a heavy drizzle. Siria even nodded off in the common room, when they were supposed to be working on Professor Sprout’s essay on self fertilizing plants.  
On their way to the dungeon, the trio tried to guess which of the Potions in Cassius’s notes Snape would start with. Ron joked that they should ask Trelawney. Hermione gave a disapproving sigh, but did a poor job of covering her smirk. Siria laughed, loudly.  
“There you are!” Lavender peaked around Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. “Oh, Siria— how could you not tell us?” Siria looked to Ron then Hermione.  
“About?” she asked.  
“Your date!” Lavender rolled her eyes so hard that her head rolled back. Siria tucked her chin to her chest. “Honestly, your face is so red.”  
“Psh, no,” Siria muttered. Lavender and Parvati hugged Siria, who could not fight them off and cover her face.  
“It’s just a study date,” Siria grumbled.  
“But it’s a date!” Lavender squeed and hugged Siria tighter. “That’s amazing! Who was it? Do we know him— her— the person?”  
The dungeon door creaked open and Lavender deflated. It was just as well, Siria was ready to shove her head into a cauldron. They filed into the room in silence. Snape closed the door behind him. He, as Professors Trelawney, Sprout, McGonagall, and Sinistra had, lectured them on their O.W.L.s before he assigned the Draught of Peace (B5, 232).  
As they had last year, Cassius Warrington’s notes lined up perfectly with the instructions Snape put on the blackboard. Siria reread each step at every comma. It was particularly useful in the third step. She added the powdered moonstone, reread, then stirred three times counterclockwise, reread, let it simmer for seven minutes, and reread again (B5, 234). Siria really thought the last part of adding two drops of syrup of hellebore should have been in the next line because who is going to remember that after waiting for so long?  
Despite her thoroughness, when Snape called that they should see a light silver vapor from their potion, hers was nothing to Hermione’s. Snape had nothing to say of Hermione’s, which meant that it was too good for him to comment on. He paused over Siria’s and examined the surface. Her Potion emitted silver steam. Siria bit her lips together. [B5, 233]  
“Tell me Potter-Black,” said Snape, “can you read?” he asked very quietly (B5, 233). This was not Snape’s usual method of bullying Siria in class. He normally announced it enough for at least Draco Malfoy to hear it. Siria clenched her teeth. Her head trembled in a nod.  
“I didn’t hear you, Potter-Black,” Snape said. Siria glared over her glasses at him.  
“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.  
“Yes, Sir,” he instructed (B6, 180). Siria had half a mind to tip her cauldron over and storm out, but, before she could, words were out of her mouth.  
“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Pro-fes-sor,” the words were much louder than Siria intended (B6, 180). She wasn’t even sure they were what she intended. They’d just escaped her, like the “Though I do appreciate your respect for me” that followed, which she had no choice but to smile about. The words were out. It was said and the cartwheels in her stomach didn’t matter.  
It was like the graveyard. It was like the Chamber of Secrets. She knew. Somewhere inside her she knew she shouldn’t say these things. She knew she shouldn’t have told Tom Riddle he got killed by a baby— knew she shouldn’t taunt Voldemort, in a graveyard, in front of his Death Eaters, but it felt so good. The words just came to her and came out of her and what should it matter?  
(Phylicia)  
“Detention, Potter-Black,” said Snape. “My office, tomorrow night. I do not take cheek from anyone.” (B6, 180).  
“I can’t do tomorrow,” Siria told him. “I’ve a date with a very cute girl, not that you’d understand.”  
“My office, tomorrow” Snape repeated, “five o’clock.” Siria opened her mouth, but Hermione slammed her elbow into Siria’s back. Siria winced.  
“She’ll understand,” Siria groaned.  
Ron and Siria ram high on her retorts to Snape. Even Hermione’s disapproval could not get them down. Though, they silenced before entering Defense Against the Dark Arts.   
Professor Umbridge sat at her desk, waiting for them. Hermione picked seats about halfway in. Everyone could immediately tell that would not like Umbridge very much. She greeted them and the class murmured in reply (B5, 239).  
“That won’t do, now, will it?” Professor Umbridge simpered at them. “I should like you, please, to reply ‘good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.’ One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!” (B5, 239).  
After Snape’s class, Siria was very much not in the mood for being bossed around. Hermione seemed to sense this and shot Siria a scathing look. With the others, Siria replied, “good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.” She wanted to kicked something.  
Professor Umbridge considered herself their savior from what she called “disruptive and fragmented” learning. This was at least how she justified the words “A Return to Basic Principles” she put on the blackboard. Then she made them copy down the course aims. Siria pretended to write them until Hermione kicked Siria’s foot under the table. [B5, 239-240]  
There was something odd about the course aims. They left Siria wondering. “1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic,” made it sound like they wouldn’t be doing magic. It sounded like theory. “2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used,” sounded odd too. To Siria it sounded like they were being told defending themselves was an exception, not the rule. “3. Placing the use of defensive magic in the context for practical use.” Siria confessed to herself she wasn’t even sure what Professor Umbridge meant. It just sounded like more theoretical work. [B5, 239-240]  
Once Umbridge made them all reply “Yes, Professor Umbridge” to confirm they had their books, she told them to read chapter one. Wilbert Slinkhard could out bore Professor Binns. Siria would bet on it. She read the first page twice without taking in a single word. Siria read a third time before accepting she would just need to read Hermione’s notes on each chapter, when she looked up to see Hermione had not opened her book. [B5, 240-241]  
Hermione’s hand was high in the air, stretched as much as Hermione could manage. Professor Umbridge ignored her, until more than half was class decided to watch Hermione’s raised hand over read the chapter. Though not at all happy about it, Professor Umbridge smiled. [B5, 241]   
“Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?” Umbridge asked.  
“That’s a leading question,” Siria thought and Hermione confessed it was not about the chapter. Professor Umbridge told Hermione to wait until after class, but Hermione quickly said it was about the course aims. [B5, 241]  
“I think the course aims are perfectly clear, if you read them through carefully,” Professor Umbridge said in forced sweetness, but Hermione did not agree. [B5, 241]  
“There’s nothing written up there about using defensive spells,” Hermione said (B5, 241).  
“That’s it,” Siria thought. Of course the aims were odd! She had understood perfectly: it was only theoretical.  
“We’re not learning magic?” Ron asked in completely surprise, but Professor Umbridge told him he needed to raise his hand to be recognized. Hermione wrestled one of Siria’s hands into her own and Ron took Siria’s other. Ron raised his free hand, but Professor Umbridge turned away. [B5, 242]  
“Let go,” Siria told Hermione. Hermione shook her head and raised her free hand higher.  
“Siria, please,” Hermione pleaded through gritted teeth. Professor Umbridge glared over the hands raised in the classroom. “Just this once, don’t.” So Siria didn’t.  
She gnawed her tongue in silence while her classmates asked why they weren’t being taught the spells. Siria sat in silence when Parvati panicked that her first attempt at the spell would be during her O.W.L. Silent, when Dean Thomas had to defend Remus Lupin because Umbridge called him a “dangerous half-breed.” Silent, while her leg trembled as the anger boiled inside her. [B5, 243-244]  
“Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?” Professor Umbridge asked in a sickenly sweet, fake voice (B5, 244).  
“Death Eaters, like Peter Pettigrew, and Lord Voldemort, himself.” Siria knew her ears had not deceived her. She knew someone definitely said that, but it couldn’t have been who she thought.  
“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Granger.”  
“What?” Siria shouted, but nothing came out. Her wide, shocked emerald eyes looked to Hermione. Hermione glared at Professor Umbridge. When Siria had not been looking, Hermione snuck a Silencing Charm on her.  
Professor Umbridge tried to tell that class that Voldemort died and was still very much dead. “If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading,” Professor Umbridge told them. [B5, 245]  
“We saw Voldemort return,” Hermione said so very clearly that even Professor Umbridge could not ignore it.  
“Detention, Ms. Granger.”

“How could you do that to me?” Siria screamed at Hermione in their dorm room. “A Silencing Charm? And now you have detention— you, Hermione!”  
“I know,” Hermione hissed through gritted teeth. She paced their room and kept her eyes on the floor. “Don’t you have more pressing matters?”  
“What could be more pressing? Hermione ‘we-could-be-expelled-or-worse’ Granger just got detention for something that wasn’t my fault!”  
“Would you please stop shouting?”  
“Why? Is lowering my voice going to get you out of detention?”  
“No,” Hermione’s voice broke and guilt punched Siria in the stomach. She leaned against her desk and tilted her head back. If Hermione looked at the floor, she would look at the ceiling.  
“Look,” Siria sighed in a normal tone, “I just don’t understand why you would throw a Silencing Charm on me only to fight her yourself.”  
“Because you’re more valuable,” Hermione said.  
“I’m— what are you even— Hermione,” Siria let out a short yell of frustration. She slapped her thigh. “Hermione, Cassius and I might be the poster children to our anti-Voldemort campaign, but you are the brain. Do you know what I would do to get you out of that detention?”  
“Detentions…” Hermione whispered at the floor. Siria groaned. She slumped onto the floor.  
“Hermione, I would sooner…” Siria searched for the words with her eyes squeezed shut. “I would sooner walk into Voldemort’s lair, unarmed, and accept whatever torture he could think of than see you kicked out of Hogwarts.”  
“You don’t mean that,” Hermione shook her head very slightly. It was the sway of her bushy hair that gave it away. “You’re just upset, but it’s like Patricia told Colin—”  
“No,” Siria shook her head. “Hermione, I tried to cut you out last year because I thought it would be easier on you.”  
“Siria, it’s just detention,” Hermione’s voice was quiet. “Shouldn’t you worry about Lily Moon?”  
“Why would I worry— my date!” Siria slapped her forehead. “Do you see what I mean? I forget my first date because you get detention— you,” Siria pressed her head into her hands.  
“You need to tell Lily Moon that you’ll miss your date,” Hermione said. “I’ll call Cedric on the mirror, to have her meet you.”  
“‘Mione, you can’t just dismiss this,” Siria said, but Hermione had already opened one of their compacts.  
“You’re blowing it out of proportion,” Hermione told her. “I understand that you’re upset about the Silencing Charm and that I’ve got detention, but I made my bed. It isn’t yours to lay in.”  
“Hey, Ced,” Hermione said into the mirror. Siria groaned into her hands. “Could you ask Lily Moon to wait outside your common room?” Siria pleaded in silence with Hermione. “Siria’s heading over now.”

Siria paced along the corridor to the Hufflepuff common room. She focused on the stones in the ground and not that she had cancel on Lily Moon. Siria rubbed her scar. It stung all summer. “Is it going to sting until I die?” Siria wondered.  
“Diggory said you wanted to see me,” Lily Moon said. Her light red hair was tied up in towel. A lock escaped the towel and trailed to her sharp collar bone. “Er, Siria?”  
“Right,” Siria uttered as her breath returned to her. “I can’t do tonight.”  
“Oh,” Lily Moon choked. “Of course— thank you, for—”  
“I have detention,” Siria rushed out. “If I can keep my mouth shut with Snape, would you like to meet Saturday? I’d say Friday, but I’ve got to be at Quidditch tryouts for Keeper”  
“You want to study with me on Saturday?” Lily Moon asked.   
“I mean,” Siria ran her hand through her hair, “study date, a walk if the weather’s okay, maybe sneak down to kitchens or something.”  
“That… that would be nice,” Lily Moon’s eyes fell to the floor. Her face was red down to her roots. “A walk or study date… or something.”  
“Cool,” Siria bit her lip and ran her hand through her hair again. “See you Saturday. Just after lunch okay? Library if the weather’s poor and Entrance Hall if it’s clear?” Lily Moon nodded.  
Siria waited until Lily Moon returned to her common room. She waited for a moment, just to be sure Lily Moon was really gone. “Yes!” Siria cheered. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”  
“What are you so happy about, Potter-Black?” the cool, drawl of trouble asked. Siria clenched her fists tighter and not because she was elated enough to burst. She opened her mouth to let the words came out, but closed it.  
“Lily Bloody Moon,” Siria thought, “Hermione, Ron, the lessons.” She opened and closed her hands, focused on the motion while she continued to list things. Siria linked her fingers and tucked them behind her head.  
“Girls, Malfoy— girls are amazing,” Siria told him. Pink tinted Malfoy’s nose. “Right!” Siria said, more excited than she meant to. She even reached for his shoulder, but let her hands fall. Siria clapped her hand into the other. “You know, it’s a crying shame you made me choose between you and the others” Siria told him. “Moments like these,” Siria wagged her finger, “when it’s you and me— like in the Hospital Wing— and you’re not putting on a front, and we can celebrate girls... I almost feel like we could be friends,” Siria confessed. “But you just won’t stop talking shit,” she added.  
“Who’d want to be friends with you?” Malfoy asked. “What kind of girl would even like you? Aside from Granger.”  
“Oh,” Siria nodded and leaned toward him with a grin, “there’s a girl beside ‘Mione.” Siria shrugged and peered down the corridor.  
“At least my friends aren’t waiting to drop dead,” said Malfoy. Siria’s grin dropped.  
“You know,” Siria started, but Malfoy tapped his prefect badge.  
“You wouldn’t want to reschedule your date again, would you?” He asked. Siria gave a quiet click of her tongue.  
“One day you’ll see that people are more than their parents,” Siria told him. “I would very much like to go on my date though, if you don’t mind— Mr. Malfoy,” and she made a show of bowing before she left.  
Siria rubbed the back of her head and ruffled her hair. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe the other voice inside her was right. If she spent a little time on what she was about to say, she wouldn’t say such things. “Hey, Malfoy,” Siria said to herself, “if you stop being a bully to Hermione, who I love more than anyone, and Ron, who is my best friend in the world, maybe we could be friends? After all, I made up with my cousin…”Siria shook her head. “He’s still a prat.”  
A large sigh escaped Siria while she climbed through the portrait hole. She nearly jumped back through at the sight of the group waiting for her. Siria clutched her heart and entered the common room.  
“Did you get turned down?” Colin asked.  
“Don’t be stupid,” said Fred.  
“Who’d turn her down?” asked George.  
“But you look sad,” said Dennis. Hermione pushed to the front. She waited, brow furrowed, for Siria’s reply. Siria raised her arms and waved her hands to say “bring the praise.”  
“Told you!” Ron shouted. “Of course she was fine with it!”  
“We told you!” Lavender scoffed.  
“Oh, Siria,” Parvati hugged Siria again. “What are you wearing?”  
“I don’ know?” Siria shrugged. “We might be going on a walk, if the weather’s nice.”  
“Astrology’s practical lab got cancelled from thunderstorms,” Hermione reminded Siria. “I doubt you’re going on a walk.”  
“Don’t get too excited,” Fred told them.  
“She’s got to make it through detention first,” George reminded them.  
“Sir,” Fred winked. Siria blushed and shook her head.  
“It was good,” George told her.  
“Sirius’ll be proud,” said Fred.  
“I couldn’t help it,” Siria grinned without a drop of remorse. “Oh, his face—” she looked to Colin and Dennis and the grin washed right off. “Told me I was in huge trouble,” Siria adjusted her tone to a firm one, not unlike Mrs. Weasley’s. “It is very wrong to talk back to professors and I…” Siria looked to Hermione, with the hope whatever Siria should say would appear on her face, but it did not. “I’m very sorry.”  
“Right!” Colin nodded and winked to her.  
“No!” Siria pointed at him. “No. I should not have talked to Professor Snape that way. It was…” Hermione sighed, but mouthed. “It was wrong,” Siria read of Hermione’s lips. “I feel really, very depressed—distressed.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, just don’t get detention or… I don’t know, but I’ll figure something out.”


	13. Detention with Snape

**Detention with Snape**   


Tap. Tap. They were the smallest knocks Siria could make. She barely knocked. It was more that she pressed her fingertips to the door, like she patted it. Siria squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe, Snape forgot.  
The door swung open. She sighed and hung her head. Siria closed the door behind her. She walked down a walkway framed by shelves full of jars with organs, plants, and Siria had no idea what, suspended in different liquids. The Hogwarts Potion Master probably needed loads of creepy jars to keep his hair so well greased. Siria tightened her jaw.  
“Good evening, Professor Snape,” Siria showed her teeth in a poor attempt to smile.  
“Potter-Bl—your hair,” Snape sneered. Siria ran her hands over her french braid, which felt as well done as when she left the tower.  
“I wasn’t sure what I’d be doing and wanted it out of the—” Siria started. Snape pointed his wand at her head and flicked it. Siria bit her tongue and focused on her hands. She did not have to look to know what he had done. Her hair would be back to its usual jet-black.  
“Professor,” Siria said in a controlled tone, “there’s nothing in the rules about Transfigured hair.”  
“Do not attempt to lecture me about the rules, Potter-Black,” he told her. “You are the one in detention.”  
Siria clenched her fists, released them, and repeated the process. “Right you are, Professor,” she said through gritted teeth. At this rate, she would be surprised if her teeth made it through the detention. “What would you have me do, for my detention, Sir?” Snape ignored the shaking fury in Siria’s voice and pointed to a desk, crammed in a corner, with a book. Chloe’s strut of confidence came to Siria’s mind, so she mirrored it in the few paces to the desk.  
Snape’s book was completely white. Even the title, which Siria supposed was more of a champagne white than the ivory of the book. The material used was coarse and… Siria sighed. She was judging a book by its cover— literally. “Is there something wrong with my book, Potter-Black?” Snape asked from his desk.  
“No…” Siria quickly added “Sir,” and sat down.  
“Defenses of the Mind, by Mentis Resistentiam” Siria read. She rested her elbow on the desk, to hold her head, and hoped he didn’t expect her to read the entire book.  
“What have you learned Potter-Black?” Snape asked with fifteen minutes to go before curfew.  
“That you take cheek from no one,” Siria showed her teeth in another poor attempt to smile, “sir!”  
“About Occlumency,” Snape snapped at her.  
“Oh, the book— yeah,” Siria nodded. She rubbed the back of her hand absently over the prickling scar. “Well, I’m obviously a very poor fit because I’m a little short tempered.” Snape’s eyes narrowed at her. “Very short tempered?” Siria adjusted. “It’s all very cool and all,” she was digging her grave and knew it.   
“Occlumency protects against legilimency, which is where someone attacks your mind to...” Siria groaned. She knew this. She had just read it. “It’s basically mind reading, but magical? Occlumency can either show people what the person being legilimency-ized wants to show the person occlumency-ing them or block them out completely?”  
“It appears you can read after all,” Snape flicked his wand and the door of his office opened. “You may go. In the future, watch your mouth. There are teachers who will not take so kindly to your sass.” Siria jerked to move, but something rooted her to the spot.  
“Sir, if I may?” Siria requested.  
“What is it?” Snape sighed.  
“Why are you so mean to Neville— Longbottom, Sir?” Siria asked. “I get me because my dads bullied you, so that’s deflected, but…” she tilted her head to the side.  
“Out, unless you want to cancel your date— again,” Snape told her. Siria clicked her tongue, but nodded and headed out.  
“Of course,” was all she could think about it. If he doesn’t need a reason to save my life, why would he need a reason to bully someone. Snape was only nice to the Slytherins. “Maybe Neville’s just an easy target?” Siria wondered. Dudley used to think Siria was an easy target. Could Siria give Neville… “what would they be? Confidence lessons?”  
“Moony & Padfoot is out of fashion,” someone said and Siria turned on her heel. It was Lily Moon, with a box in her hands. “That’s a lie,” Lily Moon confessed with a shy smile. She shrugged. “You were really in your head. I was worried you wouldn’t notice me. Was the detention that bad?”  
“No,” Siria shook her head. A smile took over her eagerness to argue with herself. Lily Moon wanted her attention. “And I managed to stay out of more. Hermione thinks it’ll be too poor for a walk, so library? Is it weird if we match? I don’t know what I’m wearing yet…”  
“You could pull off a potato sack,” Lily Moon muttered at the ground. Siria leaned in, having not heard clearly. “It’ll be whack,” Lily Moon said, louder, “I said ‘it’d be whack,’ our date. Here!” she held the box out to Siria. “I got them in case your detention is bad, I’ll see you Saturday!”  
“But,” Siria watched Lily Moon hurry off. “I’ll see you tomorrow too” Siria carried the box back to Gryffindor tower. Ron was knocked on in an armchair. Siria put the box on the table and sat in the chair next to him. Hermione must not have returned. She would have waited with Ron. It couldn’t hurt to rest her eyes for a minute, while they waited for Hermione.  
Darkness greeted Siria. The black door she started dreaming of when summer started met her again. Taunted her, really. It would not open. This was not the sort of door that Alohomora would work on; she knew it.  
“Siria!” Hermione hissed and shook Siria’s shoulder. Siria stretched, but shook her head and nuzzled the warm— she jerked up. Ron winced. He pulled his arm into his lap.  
“It’s asleep,” he groaned, as he massaged it.  
“Sorry,” Siria yawned. She rubbed at her eyes.  
“Honestly, you two. Did you do any homework?” Hermione asked.  
“How?” Siria asked. “I barely had time for dinner.” She pulled the box Lily Moon gave her into her lap and untied the gold ribbon.  
Ron sniffed and leaned over the box. “You’re sharing, yeah?” He asked.  
“Always,” Siria smiled. They each pulled a small meat pie from the box.  
“Honestly,” Hermione shook her head, but sat in the other armchair, “doesn’t it bother you that you’re associated with being hungry?”  
“Bu’ we har hu’gerhe,” Ron said through a mouthful. Siria nodded and finished her bite.  
“If it means being fed, I’m not bothered at all,” Siria confessed. “I think I like Lily Moon even more now.” Hermione crossed her arms and huffed. “What?”  
“Did you like Lily Moon before she asked you out?” Hermione asked. Siria shrugged. Ron scooped up another pie.  
“She’s pretty cute and she’s obviously thoughtful— am I thoughtful?” Siria paused. She looked to Ron.  
“Course you are!” he assured her. Siria smiled at him.  
“You can be,” Hermione said, “but relationships are a lot of work. Besides, what are you going to do? Agree to anyone that asks you out?”  
“Would that be so bad? I mean, not while I’m dating someone already,” said Siria. Hermione sighed and shook her head.  
“Siria, I love you, but I worry about you,” Hermione confessed. “Finish your pies. We’ve got to get some sleep, especially if you’re running in the morning again.”  
“But what about your detention? What’s Umbridge have you doing?” Siria asked. “Snape had me weird this weird book.” She saw Ron eyeing the last pie. “Half,” she told him and they split it.  
“Just lines,” Hermione said. She wrapped herself in her robes, like she was cold.  
“That’s not that bad,” Siria said.  
“Don’t you feel a little silly now?” Hermione asked. “You were all ‘I’d walk through fire to get you out of detention’, and it’s just lines.” Siria shrugged.  
“For you two, I’d still walk through fire,” Siria grinned. “Heck, I’d take the Cruciatus Curse— bet you anything Umbridge can’t do it as well as Voldemort.” Ron flinched. “What?” Siria asked. “Honestly, Ron, the man tortured me. If I don’t joke about it, I’m going to dwell on it.”  
“Why do you think that is?” Hermione asked.  
“Are you Dr. Rose-ing me?” Siria asked. Hermione tilted her head to the side in a half-nod. “Fine, I’ll humor you.” Siria leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.  
“We spent last year trying every jinx, hex, and curse we could get out hands on,” Siria said. “We practiced together, with the others, and I even practiced alone, but…” Siria bit her lip. She cracked her eyes open as she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. “But then we found out I’m a Horcrux, or whatever.” Even now, She wasn’t sure she understood or that she wanted to. The library only had a single line that they were evil and better left unmentioned.  
“When I was in the graveyard with Cass, when I thought ‘here it is; this is where I’m supposed to die’, I just wanted him to be able to return. My plan is nothing to something either of you would have made and I knew it,” she confessed.  
“But I didn’t know I’d try to fight him…” Siria said. “My body acted on its own. Despite all the spells we learned, even though I was against Lord Voldemort himself, I fired out a Disarming Spell.” She dropped her head into her hands and shook it. It was such a simple, silly spell, but might have been what delayed her death.  
“Then, against Barty Crouch, Jr. I,” Siria paused. She knew that it was wrong; the way she felt about it was weird. “We saw him duel before. I dueled him before, but it was different in the office. He came at me harder and each time I blocked something seemed to make him more eager, more clever, more ready. It wasn’t until it was over, not just the fight, but everything. When Fudge had gone, when I was alone and thought about it that I realized it. I enjoyed it..”  
Siria locked her fingers in her lap. She peered over her glasses at Hermione then Ron. They remained silent. Ron shifted in his seat.  
“Well, it wasn’t like you enjoyed, you know,” Ron said, “the torture part or something.”  
“No,” Siria let out a quiet, short laugh, “I did not enjoy that, but I felt so alive fighting. It was mostly luck, but the more I think about it, the more I worry I have a death wish or something.” Siria looked to Hermione, who had gone pale. “If I stop joking about the graveyard and Junior, I don’t know what will happen, but it feels wrong. I feel like, if I stop joking about it, if I actually dwell on it, then I’ll let something awful out of me.” Her throat tightened.  
No more needed to be said among them. To Hermione and Ron, it was finally written on Siria’s face. If Siria was a Horcrux of Voldemort, if she held a piece of his soul inside her, what could stop the piece from taking over? How could she be sure that these feelings were even hers?

Professor Flitwick continued the practice of an O.W.L. lecture for the first half hour of class. Siria wondered if they were really as important as she heard. To her surprise as much as anyone else’s, Siria raised her hand. Hermione examined Siria, who starred, resolutely, away. They hardly spoke since last night.  
“Yes,” asked Professor Flitwick, “Ms. Potter-Black?”  
“Er,” Siria held her right wrist in her hand as she dropped them to her lap. “Professor, what about… well, O.W.L.s are for magic jobs and the like, but what about working in the Muggle world?”  
“Ah, yes,” tiny Professor Flitwick nodded from the top of his cushion pile. “I suppose you’re looking to take over your father’s company.”  
“Well, not just that,” Siria confessed. “There’ve got to be Muggleborns and Half-bloods that want to be…” she caught Hermione’s eye, then quickly focused her eyes on the rim of Professor Flitwick’s hat, “dentists or doctors, or something.”  
“This is quite an important question, Mr. Finnigan,” said Professor Flitwick. Siria did not look at whatever Seamus had been doing behind her.  
“Should any of you with Muggle heritage wish to pursue Muggle occupations, you may do so,” Professor Flitwick explained. “You’ll want to bring that up during your Career Counselling session, so you can receive additional information about the process. There is additional schooling required, but, if a Muggle occupation is what you want, you would start different classes next year. It would be your maths, languages, alongside your other subjects. The Ministry of Magic then takes the steps to help you get your certifications, degrees, and experience for your field.”  
Down the Chamber of Secrets, Cassius’s crowd, the trio, and Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang continued to clean. “You want a Muggle job?” Cho Chang asked Siria. She pointed her wand down. Siria sighed and pretended to be looking for more to clean on the Chamber floor. Alice Travers sat, flicking her wand at bits of debris and blasting them to dust.  
“Siria would be great at a Muggle job,” Cedric said. He flicked his wand to summon another small ball of light. “Well, you’d be great at any job,” he told Siria, who faced Ron to avoid his eye.  
“Would she now?” Cho asked cooly. She focused on the wall behind Maddy and Patricia, so she didn’t glare at Siria.  
“So,” Siria said loudly. Her voice carried through the Chamber of Secrets. “Hermione, what do we do with the basilisk?”  
“Well,” Hermione dusted her hands on her robes, “Cassius and I are going to extract the venom and use what we can. Fred and George have bribbed some off of us though.”  
“How?” Ron asked.  
“I don’t want to say,” and Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose.  
“A galleon says they promised to make something for P.B.,” Maddy called. Siria swept a rock from the floor and chucked it. It went right over Maddy’s head and Patricia caught it a few feet away.  
“Comments like that’ll make people misunderstand,” Siria said, “especially from you.”  
“P.B., chill,” Maddy said. “Most people don’t even know.” Siria paused.  
“People see what they want to,” Patricia added. Her smile was small and distant.  
“You’re not wrong though,” Maddy said and put her arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “People take one look at the two of you and assume ‘famous Potter’ and the ‘Muggleborn’ are together.”  
“Who are you dating, Siria?” Cho asked with the air of someone trying to be casual.  
“No one, yet,” Siria said. Though, she was hoping that after tomorrow’s date, she could say “Lily Moon” next time someone asked.  
“Don’t you got to get going,” Ron asked Siria an hour or so later. “You’ve got Quidditch tryouts.”  
“We should all head out,” Cho suggested. She eyed Cedric, who nodded.  
“If you’re heading out,” Cedric said to Siria.  
“We are. I’ve got to lock up,” she said. Cedric left with Cho. Maddy sighed, but followed with Patricia soon after. Cassius eyed Siria, who nodded to Alice. Alice was in worse spirits than over summer. Mr. Travers finally reached out to her, with a “letter.” “Trash” or “hogwash” would describe it better. It was full of lines like “I’m sorry you disagree with my decision” and “once you grow up a little more, you’ll understand.” She lifted her arm then let it drop to her side in an attempt to wave goodbye.  
“Maybe a walk to the Room,” Siria mouthed to Cassius in suggestion. He bit his lip and shrugged. Cassius put an arm around Alice and they headed out of the Chamber. Hermione, Ron, and Siria watched until the pair was out of sight.


	14. Percy and Padfoot

**Percy and Padfoot**   


Again, Siria paced outside the Hufflepuff common room. Despite Angelina saying they would take the best Keeper, Ron made the team. Vicky Frobisher flew the best, but wouldn’t prioritize Quidditch. Geoffrey Hooper was a close second, but supposedly complained too much. So Siria was here, pacing the corridor, to show she prioritized Quidditch and without a word to Angelina, so no one thought she was a complainer too. [B5, 276]  
Angelina booked the Quidditch pitch for tomorrow afternoon, which overlapped Siria’s date. How was she supposed to fall in love at this rate? Siria slumped down, against the wall, and pressed her head into her hands. She massaged her fingers over her scar. To say it hurt would be an overstatement, but stung more than it had over summer. “No,” Siria thought, “now it hurts,” but it was gone as quickly as it arrived.  
Someone warm slid down, beside her. Lily Moon crouched down, in her blue robe. There were little cartoon characters on her pajama pants. “If you look that distressed, it makes it hard for me feel disappointed,” Lily Moon told her.  
“Don’t be disappointed,” Siria requested, “Angelina booked the field for tomorrow afternoon— so, when works best for you?” Lily Moon glanced sideways at Siria as she mulled it over.  
When Siria returned the common room, she raised her arms for praise. Lily Moon rescheduled. There was a chance for love after all. Colin and Dennis, congratulated her, then dashed up to their dorm. Siria eyed the door, then Fred and George, who met Siria’s eyes then turned away.  
“What are they up to?” Siria cornered George when he went to get another butterbeer.  
“What’s who up to?” George asked. He peered around Siria, innocently. She crossed her arms.  
“The Creevey brothers.”  
“Didn’t they head up to bed?” George asked. “Good boys, the Creevey brothers,” he patted Siria, “your brothers. Heard their mother’s already invited you to Christmas.”  
“They’re coming over, instead,” Siria said. “Wait—” she caught George’s arm as he tried to slip away. “What are you all planning?”  
George raised the four butterbeers he was holding. “Well, I’m planning on snogging Jessica Thompson, though I think she might like you more,” he winked at her. Siria let go and sighed. “Oh! Sheck my pocket,” he told her. George turned his back to her.  
“Which one?” She asked and eyed the butterbeers she would rather take.  
“Back,” and George nodded over his left shoulder. Siria tucked her hand into his pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves.  
“Already?” She asked him. “I just asked for them yesterday.”  
“Well, Fred and I take our investors’ requests very seriously,” George smiled. Siria rolled her eyes and gave him a nudge.  
“Good luck with Thompson.”  
Siria squeezed herself onto the armrest of the armchair Hermione nodded off in. She slipped Hermione’s left glove off. Hermione startled awake and took her hand to her chest. Her large, round brown eyes blinked in their tired haze.  
“What are you doing?” Hermione yawned. Siria tapped the gloves against Hermione’s nose.  
“These are for your frozen fingers, ‘Mione,” she said. Hermione took the gloves. They were fuzzy and light pink with blue argyle. “Though your hand doesn’t feel that cold to me.”  
“I’m freezing,” Hermione snapped. She rose out of the chair, which made Siria slide into it. “Thank you,” and she marched away without looking back.  
Over the armchair, Siria searched for Ron, who was being congratulated by Lavender Brown. “Didn’t even get to mention my scar,” Siria muttered. She pulled her legs over the arm of the chair and let her too-tall-to-sit-this-way self drape over the other arm.  
“Siria Potter-Black,” someone called loudly and confidently. Siria cracked her eyes open to see a girl with large dark eyes, a prominent chin, and long black hair, standing over her. “Hi, Siria,” she smiled down at Siria, “I’m Romilda. Romilda Vane.” [B6, 138]  
“I know who you are,” Siria sighed, but did not move from her uncomfortable draped position. She linked her fingers over her stomach.  
“Do you really?” Romilda smiled. She stepped closer.  
“Yeah. You’re the girl who thinks my favorite photographer’s photos are ‘lame’,” Siria said flatly. Romilda’s smile faltered.  
“Who?”  
“Colin Creevey.” Siria stared at blankly at Romilda.  
“Well, I suppose his are good.”  
“Well, I suppose you ought to tell him that,” Siria clicked her tongue, hopped to her feet, and headed for bed.

Morning came too quickly after another night of the same corridor and same locked door. Parvati braided Siria’s hair into a crown around her head. Lavender hung another earring up to Siria’s earlobe. She had gone through the box twice.  
“There’s just nothing that says ‘you’,” Lavender told Siria. Siria chuckled.  
“And what says ‘me’?” Siria asked.  
“Telling Romilda Vane to bugger off,” Parvati beamed. “You know, she called my Yule Ball bangles ‘tacky’. I had half a mind to stab her with Lavender’s hairpin.”  
“You should have,” Siria joked.  
“You should have been nicer,” Hermione told Siria. “Sometimes people like that just need a little kindness.”  
“Draco Malfoy,” Siria named.  
“Yes, well,” Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear, “we haven’t actually been kind to him in a long while.”  
“When Malfoy’s kind to you, I’ll reconsider.”  
In the Great Hall, Siria took a seat beside Ron. “How did it go?” he asked. Siria sighed and poured herself some water. “That bad?”  
“I didn’t realize you were actually supposed to study on a ‘study date’,” Siria confessed. “I thought people just put ‘study’ in front so they could, I don’t know.”  
“Did you tell her?” Hermione asked.  
“No,” Siria sighed. “I did get to hold her hand though,” Siria nodded in approval at this victory as she sprinkled some greens onto her plate.  
“Nice,” Ron patted Siria on the back.  
“Not really,” Siria said. “It was because I ‘accidentally' bumped it.”  
“That’s smooth though,” Ron assured her. “She’s bound to have butterflies.” Siria wasn’t so sure if Lily Moon did, but she certainly had some in her stomach.  
“What’re they doing?” Siria asked. Her fork fell onto her plate as she rose to her feet. Colin and Dennis Creevey approached Lily Moon at the Hufflepuff table. Fred and George gave Siria two thumbs up. “What’s happening?” Siria asked when Lily Moon looked to her. Siria smiled, waved, and hoped the terror that twisted her stomach was for nothing. Lily Moon nodded and smiled back. “Why is she smiling now?” Siria asked through clenched teeth.  
Colin and Dennis gave Siria a thumbs up. They sat with the twins, on the end of the Gryffindor table furthest from Siria. She pressed her fist to her mouth. “Everything’s fine,” Siria told herself. “Please, let everything be fine,” she squeezed her eyes shut.  
“Are you dating Lily Moon?” a bold voice asked loudly, too loudly. The nearby chatter died out. Siria stiffened. She put her hands down on the table and glared over her glasses, at Romilda Vane.  
“Don’t see how that’d be anyone’s business,” Siria said in the most controlled tone she could manage.  
“Holding hands in the library isn’t dating,” Romilda Vane told Siria. “I want to snog the person I like.”  
“It’s fine to think that way, but holding hands in the library is dating for some people,” Siria said.  
“She’s so much shorter than you,” Romilda Vane said. “I’m the perfect height,” and she raised herself up, to still shorter than Lily Moon.  
“Ms. Vane,” Professor McGonagall swept down on them, “five points from Gryffindor. How dare you cause such a scene in the Great Hall. Who Potter-Black may or may not be dating is not anyone’s business!”  
“But, professor,” she tried to protest.  
“Do not make me take any more points,” Professor McGonagall told her. “I suggest you go sit with Ms. Thompson and Ms. Cole.”  
“Thank you,” Siria mouthed to Professor McGonagall as she left.

When the team stepped onto the field there was a clash of cheers with jeers and catcalls. The Slytherin Quidditch team sat with some of their friends, half way up one side of the stands. The Hogwarts Herald members and some other students from the Sunday study group sat with Hermione on the other side. A wide grin cracked over Siria’s face. Settled between the Creevey brothers and Hermione, sat Lily Moon. [B5, 290]  
“Focus, Potter-Black,” Angelina snapped at Siria as they kicked off. “We’re going to start with some passes,” Angelina told them.  
“Hey, Johnson, what’s with that hairstyle anyway?” Pansy Parkinson shrieked from below. “Why would anyone want to look like they’ve got worms coming out of their head?” (B5, 291)  
“Want me to hex her?” Siria offered in a hushed tone. Angelina shook her head and brushed her long braids from her face.  
“Want us to?” Fred offered.  
Angelina had them spread out. The team wasn’t bad, but they were distracted. Ron missed every other pass to him. Siria couldn’t focus on the Quaffle. She was too busy telling herself “play it cool” and “don’t reply.”  
“Sure you don’t need a lie down?” Malfoy called to Siria with a jab about how much time she normally spent in the hospital wing. Siria clenched her teeth together. [B5, 291]  
“Nice of you to keep an eye on me” is what she wanted to say. Maybe “only if you’re offering your lap” might throw him off. She shook her head like it could shake him out of it.  
Siria swayed left to catch the Quaffle. She tossed it to Ron, who barely caught it, who passed to Katie, right through her hands, and smacked her in the face. Fred, George, and Siria flew to Katie and her bloody nose. [B5, 291-292]  
“Take his,” Fred offered Katie a purple sweet. Siria pushed his hand and the sweet away from Katie.  
“May I?” Siria extended her hand. Katie nodded. She winced when Siria grazed her finger along. Siria clicked her tongue. She pulled her wand out and pointed it at Katie’s nose “Episkey!” She rubbed Katie’s blood with her sleeve. Katie felt her nose.  
“Thanks.”  
“Show off,” George called Siria.  
“If there’s already a spell for it, we might as well use it,” Siria told him.  
“There’s a spell for everything,” Fred tsked.  
Angelina had the twins release the other Quidditch balls. Siria soared over to Lily Moon. “Gotta give the Snitch a head start,” Siria told herself.  
“Siria!” Colin shouted. FLASH. Siria hovered still while she blinked the spots from her eyes.  
“Yes, Colin?” She asked as irritation dripped from her voice.  
“Am I really your favorite photographer?” he asked.  
“Yeah, but I—” Siria squeezed her eyes shut as Colin took another photo. “I like the pictures without me and I came to say ‘hi’ to Lily Moon!” Siria ruffled his hair.  
“Hi,” Lily Moon said. Her voice was quiet and soft. The blush in her cheeks was beautiful. It made Siria’s heart skip.  
“Hey Moon,” Siria bit her lip. “You came to—”  
Angelina’s whistle blew. Siria gritted her teeth. She turned over her shoulder to find Angelina glaring at her. “Potter-Black, think the Snitch is well and lost— go get it,” Angelina snapped. Siria forced a smile.  
“Have a good practice,” Lily Moon told Siria. Her light red hair was bunched into a white and navy knitted cap with a pom pom at the end.  
“See you after?” Siria asked, with a tilt of her head.  
“I hope so,” and Siria had not ever wanted to kiss someone so much. Lily Moon was so close.  
“Siria,” Hermione hissed. There were too many other people. Siria nodded. She flipped, just to show off, before she hunted down the Snitch.  
For some reason, Ron slowly slid to whatever hoop was more inline with the Chasers, even if they were halfway across the field. Once he managed to hover before the center hoop, he improved a lot. Ron just also had to be reminded to return to the center. Their second practice match was probably his best.  
After Siria caught the Snitch for the third time, Angelina called an end to practice. The Slytherins had taken to chanting “Gryffindor are losers” and Ron went back to missing saves. When the team landed, Pansy Parkinson broke into more shrill laughter than usual.  
“What’s she on about now?” Ron cursed. Siria patted his shoulder.  
“Maybe she’s finally looked in a mirror,” Siria joked.  
“Hey, Moon!” Pansy shouted across the field. Ron slammed his hands on Siria’s shoulders at her knee jerk reaction to hop back on her broom. Siria was ready to dive at Pansy. “If you want a boyfriend, don’t settle for Potter— She’s not really a boy; she’s just huge.”  
“That little—” Siria swore through clenched teeth. “I’m not that tall.”  
“Taller than us,” said Fred.  
“Barely,” Siria told him, “by like a hair,” and she pressed her fingers together as if the difference between their heights wasn’t noticeable. “And girls can be tall.”  
“You’re a girl,” George reminded her.  
“I know I am,” Siria snapped.

While Ron did his homework, Hermione knitted house elf clothes. It was something that took her a few weeks of practicing magic over summer to finally cave in and use magic for. She knitted a hanger box of little house elf hats, socks, and dresses. Hermione’s knitting needles flashed in front of her while she chatted with Ginny.  
Siria sat on the floor, at the table, with a book of Korean fairy tales. Maddy’s cousin, Eun Jung Baek, mixed it in with some spell books she sent. Baek hoped it would help with Siria’s Korean. So far, it just made Siria feel inadequate with how frequently she looked at her dictionary.  
Occasionally, Colin or Dennis would ask about their homework or else the story Siria read. All of Siria’s responses were as short as her temper. “Blood curses,” “Monkeys falling from trees,” and “I have no idea.” Mostly, they gave Siria more questions.  
“Hermione, do we have anything like a blood curse?” Siria asked when she finished “A Tale of Two Brothers” for the second time.  
“Maledictions,” Hermione noted. “That’s very old and dark magic though. Just like there’s no one who can cure it, I doubt there’s anyone that can cast it.”  
“What? You think I want to give Voldemort one?” Siria joked.  
“Seeing as how they pass mother to daughter, no” said Hermione.  
“Then why did the brother have it?” Siria asked. She rose up and showed Hermione the page.  
“Well, are you sure you’re reading it right?” Hermione asked. She squinted at the writing on the page, as though it could translate itself for her. “It’s probably something else. Why don’t you write to ask?”  
Siria shook her head and sat back down on the floor. How could she write to ask about the children’s book that was meant for easy reading? She dwelt on the story until Ginny went to bed. The Creevey brothers followed after Dennis fell asleep in the armchair. Ron continued his homework and Siria changed to planning lessons. They were interrupted by rapting on the window. It was Hermes, Percy’s owl.  
Ron took the letter and Hermes flew off before it was even opened. “Hey.” Siria said in what she hoped was a soothing tone, “can’t be that bad.” From the look on Ron’s face, it was. He pushed the letter at Siria, who scanned over it with Hermione. [B5, 296]  
Siria tried to keep her face impassive. Percy congratulated Ron on making prefect, but noted “I have always been afraid you would take what we might call the ‘Fred and George’ route.” He went on to claim the prefect route as his own, as if Bill and Charlie had not been prefects before him. It was the stuff about Siria that made her clench her jaw. Percy, who had known her for four years, sided with the Ministry. [B5, 297]  
“Dumbledore may not be in charge at Hogwarts much longer,” Siria read aloud. Ron reached to take the letter, but Siria pressed it against herself. “No, Ron, I don’t care about the other stuff,” she lied. “This is important though, Fudge thinks that Dumbledore is trying to overthrow him, so he’s trying to overthrow Dumbledore.”  
“We’re not a monarchy,” Ron grumbled.  
“No, Ron,” Hermione said. “I think… no… maybe…” and Hermione took the letter from Siria. She paced the common room and muttered to herself. [B5, 296-298]  
“Really I’m more worried about whatever’s happening tomorrow,” Siria confessed to Ron. “Hermione barely caught that bit about Podmore being arrested for ‘trespass’; it was like they were trying to hide it.”  
“You agree that it was a setup?” Ron asked.  
“Yeah. I don’t know if they could set Dumbledore for something, but it’s not like we can use science to disprove it,” Siria sighed. She leaned her head on Ron’s shoulder. [B5, 287]  
“Sorry,” Ron muttered to Siria as they watched Hermione pace. “He’s a prat, so don’t worry about him.”  
“He’s your brother,” said Siria. “I don’t hold it against him,” she hoped she wouldn’t. “Look at the twins— they’re seeking their fortunes, Percy’s just doing it differently.”  
“But Fred and George got the money from you and Cassius,” Ron said as though it made a difference.  
“Technically, Cassius and I got it from the Ministry, so the twins did too,” Siria tried to reason.  
“Would you ask Kreacher if he wouldn’t mind bringing powdered horn of a bicorn and shredded skin of a boomslang?” Hermione asked Siria. Siria nodded.  
“Why did you set him free?” Ron asked.  
“I’m not about to hash this out with you again,” Siria said.  
“I just mean, he’d be happy to do it either way— it’s weird for them to be free,” Ron said.  
“Tell that to the house elves in the kitchen,” Siria told him.  
“Speaking of which, I’m hoping to visit, before the Herald tomorrow,” Hermione began.  
“We’ll come,” Ron and Siria said. They smiled at the other.  
Cold radiated from Siria’s jacket pocket. She shivered and opened her mirror, to Sirius’s face. They dove right into the letter and Siria beamed when Sirius agreed with her. The smile was short lived though.  
“Heard you got detention with Snape,” Sirius said. He focused his tone on parental, rather than anger with her.  
“He called me ‘sir’,” Siria smiled sheepishly. She punched Ron in the arm when he laughed. “He was being so much. He asked if I could read— should have told him I read more languages than he does.” A smile flickered over Sirius’s face, but was replaced by a firm expression.  
“You need to keep your head down, with the Ministry watching over your shoulder. Hermione as well,” Sirius added. “The lot of you need to stay out of detention and out of trouble.”  
“It’s really late, I think I’m gonna go to bed,” Siria said.  
“Siria—” he started, and she gave a huge yawn, “alright. Good night.”  
“How much do you need?” Siria asked Hermione as she dropped the mirror back into her pocket.  
“But he just said—” Hermione started.  
“Quitting already?” Siria baited. She grinned and leaned toward Hermione.  
“Enough for two regular batches, for now,” Hermione said. “We’re going to see if Potions are like making cookies.”  
“What are we making?” Ron asked. He dropped his voice to a whisper, as if they weren’t the only ones in the common room.  
“An alibi.”


	15. The Hogwarts High Inquisitor

**The Hogwarts High Inquisitor**   


On the front page of the Sunday paper, above a large photo of Dolores Umbridge and her wide, pointed smile, glittered the headline “MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER ‘HIGH INQUISITOR’.” (B5, 306)  
“And the last, if I’ve anything to say about it,” Siria tsked as she and Ron sandwiched Hermione between them to read the article together.  
The article explained Educational Decree Twenty-two, which was passed just before the start of term. If the headmaster of Hogwarts is unable to find a teacher for a position, the Ministry selects “an appropriate person.” Percy was quoted explaining that the decree is how Umbridge ended up at Hogwarts, but called her “an immediate success, totally revolutionizing teaching [...]” (B5, 307). Siria pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned back.   
“Do you suppose they actually believe the rubbish they print?” Siria asked. She swept more eggs onto her plate.  
“It’s worse. Educational Degree Twenty-three, makes her the ‘Hogwarts High Inquisitor’ and she’ll be inspecting other professors,” Hermione told Siria. “Then the usual rubbish, Lucius Malfoy throwing suspicions on Dumbledore, jab at Remus and Hagrid, stab at Dumbledore… oh, poor Madam Marchbanks got quoted saying it’s an attempt to discredit Dumbledore, so they’re dragging her name in the mud with ‘ ties to subversive goblin groups’,” Hermione sighed and folded up the paper. [B5, 307-308]  
“Thank Merlin you’re brilliant,” Ron told Hermione. He swallowed down some bacon. “No matter what she comes at us with, if we’ve got you, we’ll be good.”  
“So stay out of detention,” Siria warned.  
“Pot, kettle,” Hermione said. “I won’t get detention again. We should warn the others. Cassius—”  
“He didn’t,” Siria shot a glare across the Great Hall, to Cassius. He was none the wiser as he ate with Alice.  
“Just one night,” Hermione said. Siria clicked her tongue.  
“It’s only lines,” Ron reminded Siria.  
“Anyways,” Hermione cleared her throat, “it’s a good thing we got the Herald out before this. I don’t know how many more we’ll be able to squeeze in.”  
“What do you mean?” Ron asked.  
“Well, I hope I’m wrong, but,” Hermione sighed and put the Daily Prophet down. “If I were the Ministry or anyone trying to claim Voldemort wasn’t back, I’d do whatever it took to silence the other narratives.”  
“Won’t that just make people more suspicious?” Siria asked.  
“Not if they don’t know it exists,” Hermione said. “They’ve tried to lump Lumos with the Quibbler, but people can’t believe that… not everyone anyway.”

Down in the kitchens, Hermione was greeted like royalty. The house elves bowed so low that their noses touched the ground and nearly every single one greeted her. She was ushered to a table and into a decorated chair. Hermione’s face flushed when they handed her a bouquet of flowers.  
“Told you,” Ron whispered to Siria. “It’s in their nature. They can’t help it— doesn’t matter if they’re free.” Siria placed her hand on his shoulder.  
“It matters because they have a choice. If any future Headmaster tries to hurt them, they can leave,” Siria said. “They didn’t have the option before, and that’s what matters.” Kreacher nearly lost it when Siria and Sirius proposed freedom to him. He was happier now though, she hoped. Sirius was still worried Kreacher would betray them to someone like Bellatrix Lestrange, but Siria had the piece of mind that Bellatrix Lestrange was still in Azkaban.  
It was a solid hour before Hermione, Ron, and Siria left the kitchens. Professor Vector was actually in Augusta Dungeon when they arrived. She wasn’t the only one. There was another Professor that Siria hadn’t seen before and, in their shadows stood Umbridge with a clipboard. Her toadlike eyes bludged when the trio entered.  
Hermione went straight for Cedric and the other Hogwarts Herald members. Ron and Siria started to follow her, but were called by the other professor. “Potter-Black, Weasley, why don’t you set up the younger students first?” There was something in the way he tilted his head of dark brown hair, ever so slightly, in their direction that felt urgent.  
“Sorry,” Siria chuckled, “I’m just always so eager to answer the letters.” She placed her hand on Ron’s back and walked to other students with him.  
Astoria, three of her friends, and Colin leaned over Dennis, some other second years, and a few first year students. Colin jerked toward Siria, but stilled himself. He placed a hand on Dennis’s back, though Dennis had not moved.  
“Potter-Black,” Astoria said, “you remember Ren Franklin, Leah Greyson, and Jeanie Brewer, who helped out last year, right?” Siria smiled at them, three students she only ever saw in passing at the Sunday study group or else in the hall with Astoria.  
“It’s so good to see you again,” Siria said. “Did you enjoy helping younger students out?”  
“Absolutely,” said Ren Franklin.  
Ron looked to Siria, their backs to Umbridge. His expression spoke volumes. She moved her arm around his shoulder and pulled his ear close. “Umbridge is obviously ‘inspecting’ the group to make sure we aren’t an army for Dumbledore,” Siria whispered through the clenched teeth of her smile.  
For longer than they wanted, Ron pretended to check over some first years and Siria actually checked on the fourth and third years. Ron finally sat down to work on his homework. Siria pulled her things out, only to be pulled away.  
A seventh year Hufflepuff boy with long dreadlocks that Siria only knew of because he was often with Cedric, waved her over. Cedric and Hermione were helping Herald members with their research or finalize their topics. Siria looked to Ron, but left for the Herald’s tables.  
“Wilkins,” the boy introduced himself quietly. He handed her a stack of letters. “Don’t forget, we need the replies by Thursday,” Wilkins told her in a more audible voice.  
“Come on, Wilkins, I know” Siria told him. She marched the letters back to her bag. Siria slid them in when someone placed a hand on her shoulder.  
“Potter-Black, so sorry to bother you,” the Professor she didn’t know said. Siria pulled another smile in place.  
“Not at all,” she told him. “What can I do for you, Professor?”  
“I was just wondering if you could show the High Inquisitor some of your N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration skills,” he proposed. Siria’s heart sank into her stomach, but she smiled more. “Would her hair color suffice?” He asked Umbridge.  
“Quite,” Umbridge gave Siria a sharp tooth grin.  
Siria turned her hair the dark red of her mother’s. At Umbridge’s request, Siria changed her eyebrows as well. Cedric and Hermione watched, frozen. Siria’s heart sank through the floor. She changed it blonde, blue, then back to its usual jet black.  
“And where did you learn such advanced magic?” Umbridge asked Siria. There wasn’t a “right” answer, but every answer felt wrong. They bounced around in Siria’s mind.  
“Here,” Siria said.  
“This, rather large, study group?” Umbridge asked.  
“No,” said Siria. “It was more a general ‘here’,” and she knew not to say “The wizarding world.”  
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Siria asked and quickly added. “I’m just really hoping to get some homework done before it’s all over.” She looked to her watch. There wasn’t even an hour left.  
“Potter-Black certainly showed she’s qualified to help younger students in Transfiguration,” the professor, who Siria still didn’t know the name of, suggested to Umbridge. Umbridge gave him a grin that made Siria’s stomach flip again.  
“I suppose she has,” said Umbridge, “that’ll be all, Vector, Chaudhary.” Then she finally left.  
Professor Chaudhary placed a hand on Siria’s desk. “Sorry, Potter-Black,” he said. “I’m Professor Chaudhary. I teach a few N.E.W.T. electives.”  
“Like, if people fail all their O.W.L.s?” Siria asked.  
“More like if people decide to drop something or add an extra class,” he smiled. “Mostly term classes, but I’ll let you get your homework in,” he nodded to Ron, “Mr. Weasley.”

Sunday evening, Siria leaned against a dusty wall of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Myrtle sat on the top of her stall and watched Siria read. Siria sighed, but focused more intently on the Hogwarts Herald. It was full of articles like “The Current Hogwarts School Rules,” “How to Dispute Rules,” and “Knowing Your Rights.” No matter how much Siria examined the words, she couldn’t absorb them any further. She glanced over her glasses, at Myrtle. Just as before, Myrtle turned away.  
“If you’ve got something to say,” Siria told Myrtle. Myrtle shook her head. Siria folded the paper up and placed it under her arm.  
“No. Nothing,” said Myrtle. Siria sighed again. “I just don’t see why you’ve got to keep them a secret, if you’re trying to teach everyone who wants to learn.”  
“I don’t want Voldemort or the Ministry to know,” Siria said. “If Draco Malfoy finds out and tells his father, his father will tell Voldemort. He’d probably tell the Ministry too.”  
“But why practice here?” Myrtle asked.  
“I’m the only one that can open it and you’d never rat me out,” Siria said very matter-of-factly.  
“How can you be sure?” Myrtle teased.  
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”  
“Oh? I suppose,” Myrtle ducked into her stall.  
Myrtle peered over the top, but dove right back down when the washroom door opened. Siria shook her head at Fred and George.  
“We know, we know,” said George, who lifted his arms in surrender.  
“We’re late,” said Fred.  
“You can’t say you got lost,” Siria reminded them because they had been to the Chamber of Secrets. She shook her head and walked over to the tap.  
When Siria instructed the door to “open” the word was a harsh hiss. The sinks rumbled and revealed the slide down. Fred and George went first. Siria eyed Myrtle’s stall. “You’re welcome to join us,” she reminded Myrtle, “if ever you’re up for it.” She hopped onto the slide and rode down.  
Cedric Diggory presented the chalkboard he “borrowed” from a spare classroom. Neville found a way to keep the path lit with Hedera Meridiem, which were glowing vines that looked like Christmas string lights. Maddy and Patricia managed to sneak mats from the Room of Requirement. Cassius filled a small cabinet, which Ron found in an unfamiliar version of the Room of Requirement, with healing balms. Alice sat on a long table she made.  
“Tada!” Hermione cheered when Siria entered with the twins. Siria chuckled.  
“It looks brilliant,” she said and stepped onto one of the mats. “These’ll be nice. I’m hoping to introduce spells in the Room and practice dueling in the Chamber.”  
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Cassius said. Siria’s eyes fell to her boots.  
“Does everyone have a coin?” Hermione asked. Alice silently raised her galleon. Maddy and Patricia tapped theirs together.  
“You gave everyone a galleon?” Ron asked in awe. “I didn’t get one.”  
“Cool it,” said Fred.  
“They’re not real,” said George.  
“See here,” Hermione showed Ron as she handed him the galleon. “It’s normally the serial number, but it’ll show who is teaching where and when.” Hermione explained. “If the first numbers are ‘74318’ then Cassius is teaching in the Room, on Tuesday at six in the evening, but if it said ‘52708’ then Siria’s teaching in the Chamber on Saturday at eight in the morning.”  
“Right,” Siria nodded. “You’ll have to explain when I need to change them, but that’ll be later.”  
Alice slid off the table and faced it. Siria put down the very worn parchment of the Marauder’s Map and three similar looking pieces of parchment. Cassius, Cedric, Fred, George, Maddy, Neville, Patricia, and Ron crowded around the table with Alice, Hermione, and Siria.  
“So…” Fred grinned at what he knew to be the Marauder’s Map. Patricia pointed her wand at a shoe box on top of the cabinet.  
“So indeed,” said George with an identical grin. The box zoomed over to Patricia. She took lid off and pushed the box near the middle. It was filled with compact mirrors.  
“A gift, from Chloe,” Patricia smiled. “She didn’t even ask what they were for.”  
“What are they for?” Neville asked. Siria pulled a similar mirror from her robes, as Cassius did from his. She snapped hers open and showed Neville his reflection. Cassius opened his and Neville gasped as Cassius turned his and Neville saw its view in Siria’s mirror.  
“And these?” George tapped the Marauder’s Map.  
“You don’t get the original back,” Siria told him and put her hand over the Map.  
“How did you copy it?” Fred asked. He traced along the edge of a piece of parchment with a grin on his face.  
“No,” said George, who looked to Fred.  
“Sirius and Remus,” Fred shook his head. Siria nodded.  
“Are you going to tell us what the parchment actually is?” Maddy snapped.  
“May we?” Fred asked. Siria nodded. Fred and George each placed their wand on the parchment of a Map copy, while Siria placed hers on the original. Ron put his wand on the final copy. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” they said.  
“You added the Chamber of Secrets,” Fred noted. Ron slid his Map to Cassius.  
“And the Room of Requirement,” said George. He handed his to Cedric and looked at Fred’s.  
“We only had time to make three copies,” said Siria, “the original Marauders designed the Map to be uncopyable and didn’t bother to engineer a way to reverse that.”  
“You copied these by hand?” Cassius asked.  
“We had to,” said Hermione, “the spell that prevents them from being duplicated is tied into their design.”  
“I don’t think I’ve ever regretted you giving up the Time Turner more,” Siria sighed. They divided the maps: Siria kept the original, while Cassius, Cedric, and the Weasley twins kept a copy.  
“Now,” said Hermione, “I think it’s really important we keep a low profile from now on. That Umbridge woman is here to spy on us—”  
“What?” Neville asked.  
“Didn’t you hear her speech? Then the Daily Prophet this morning” Hermione said.  
“It’s why she was snooping around the Study Group too,” said Siria.  
“Umbridge is here to stop us from learning,” said Cedric. “That’s what she meant when she said that ‘progress for progress’s sake should be prohibited’,” he paraphrased (B5, 213).  
“It’s alright though,” said Patricia. “According to Cedric’s test, the school is very competitive, we have people’s favor, or both.”  
“The clapping was a test?” Cassius asked.  
“How do we find out who likes us and who just doesn’t like to lose?” Siria asked.  
“One by one,” said Hermione. “We should have everyone sorted out by the first Hogsmeade visit and can meet up there for one large explanation.”  
“That’s not ‘til October!” cried Fred.  
“Hermione, I can’t believe you’d wait so late,” said George.  
“Actually,” Siria interrupted, “that works in our favor.”


	16. The Inspections

**The Inspections**   


History of Magic was dull as ever. Rather than waist her time trying to absorb even the smallest piece of information from Professor Binns, Siria planned future lessons. Remus said he couldn’t promise no one would die, and Siria knew she couldn’t either. She could at least improve their chances— she would improve their chances.  
“What will you do if I refuse to lend you my notes this year?” Hermione asked Ron and Siria (B5, 229).  
“We’d fail our O.W.L.s,” Ron told her (B5, 229).  
“I suppose I’d rather not continue History anyway,” Siria confessed with a yawn.  
“If you’d just take a Draught of Dreamless Sleep,” Hermione shook her head.  
“I can’t take one every night, Hermione,” Siria groaned.  
“Those hallway nightmares still?” Ron asked.  
“They’re getting worse,” Hermione told him. “She smacked me in the face again.”  
“I was asleep,” Siria defended. She pressed her hands to her eyes. Her hand had been inches from the knob of the black door when Hermione woke her.  
Snape returned their Moonstone essays to them at the start of class. He explained he graded them on what he felt they would have received if it were for their O.W.L. Siria realized that, while she did not know the O.W.L. grading scale, the “P” Snape drew on her essay was probably not for “pass.” [B, 309]  
Her Strengthening Solution was almost the same clear turquoise shade as Hermione’s. She was not sure why she was close, but not quite there. Still, Siria left the class more worried for Neville, who somehow got his to turn pink. [B5, 309]  
Over lunch, Hermione expressed she hoped for a higher grade. Ron and Siria exchanged similar annoyed glances. Hermione continued to try and pry their grades out of them by discussing hers. [B5, 310]  
“If you want to know what grades we got, ask,” Ron snapped.  
“I don’t— I mean, if you want to tell me—” Hermione confessed.  
“I got a P,” said Ron. “Happy?” [B5, 310]   
“Same!” Siria cheered and high fived him.  
“Well, that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Fred said as he sat beside Hermione. George and Lee Jordan sat beside him. “Nothing wrong with a good, healthy P.” [B5, 310]  
Ron and Siria sniggered. Hermione shot them a glance over her shoulder, but turned back to Fred. “But, doesn’t P stand for…” she lowered her voice as though she was implying a swear (B5, 310).  
“‘Poor,’ yeah,” said Lee Jordan. “Still, better than a D, isn’t it? ‘Dreadful’?” (B5, 310)  
Hermione, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan discussed the grades of O.W.L.s while Ron and Siria ate. For two of them, what would come would come. They knew Hermione would pass everything with flying colors, but fret the entire way. Siria did smile at George when he confessed “I’ve always thought Fred and I should’ve got E in everything, because we exceed expectations just by turning up for the exams.” (B5, 311)  
“Be a good girl and keep your temper,” George told Siria (B5, 312). He pinched her nose as he passed. She knocked his arm away while she got to her feet. Her heart sank and she sat back down. “What’s it?” George asked.  
“Still hungry,” Siria lied and reached for a random piece of fruit.  
“Are you really?” Hermione asked. She hesitated.  
“Yeah,” Siria forced a smile and ate the apple on the way to Divination with Ron.  
“You okay?” Ron asked as they slid into a back, low table of the classroom. “You’re all, I don’t know.” Siria shrugged.  
“I’m fine,” she lied. “I just suppose I forgot I was taller—”  
“Course you’re taller,” Ron laughed. “Siria, you’re almost as tall as me.” Normally, Siria would have been happy about this. Being taller than Malfoy tended to give her a little swagger and Ron always being taller sometimes irked her just a bit. Today, it just made her feel “huge.”  
So trapped in her own mind, Siria hadn’t noticed their visitor. Ron, worried for her, had missed them too. At the front of the class, just behind Professor Trelawney’s chair, sat Umbridge. Even after Professor Trelawney divided students into pairs and handed out the Dream Oracle, she dared not approach her usual spot. Instead she hovered over Lavender and Parvati, who were eager to receive her guidance. [B5, 312]  
Ron and Siria sighed over their dream diaries and the book. As Siria used Ron’s dream last time, he flipped through her dream diary. “Hey,” Ron paused and went back a few dreams, “Siria, you keep writing the same dream every few nights.”  
“I keep having the same dream,” she reminded him.  
“Then let’s do that one,” he said. “Now, would the subject be the door? Oh, but which date do I use?”  
“Just pick one,” Siria sighed. “I can’t wait to drop this stupid subject.”  
Umbridge stood behind Professor Trelawney, as she had with Professors Vector and Chaudhary. While Professor Trelawney asked Neville about his dream diary, Umbridge took notes on her clipboard. The two continued around the room, until they were only a table away from Ron and Siria.  
Though Siria didn’t like Professor Trelawney, she hated Umbridge. No one who gave Hermione detention could possibly be reasonable or remotely good. She scratched at the table with her nails, as if it would take away the urge to snatch Umbridge’s clipboard and snap it.  
Professor Trelawney looked more and more affronted with each question Umbridge asked. “How long have you been in post?” then if Dumbledore appointed her, and that she’s the great-great-granddaughter of Seer Cassandra Trelawney. There was something about Umbridge’s questioning that got Siria irritated, more irritated. [B5, 214]  
Umbridge confirmed that there hasn’t been anyone, beside Professor Trelawney, with second Sight, since Seer Cassandra (B5, 314). It hit Siria. When Umbridge wasn’t asking closed questions, she asked leading questions and it reminded Siria of more intensive Veritaserum interrogations. She tucked her head down and leaned on the table.  
“Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?” Umbridge asked Professor Trelawney. Professor Trelawney went rigid, and Siria could not blame her. When she asked Umbridge to clarify, the little toad smiled and said “I’d like you to make a prediction for me.” [B5, 314]  
Everyone was listening. Lavender was so still she even held her breath. Professor Trelawney rose to her full height, but being over twice the height of Umbridge did not make her safe. “The Inner Eye does not See upon command!” Professor Trelawney clutched her hand around some of her may necklaces.  
“I see,” Umbridge said with another note on her clipboard. Though her tone implied disappointment, her face read that it was exactly what she was hoping. [B5, 314]  
Professor Trelawney did not miss this. She pointed a trembling finger at Umbridge. In her usual fashion of dramatics, Professor Trelawney told Umbridge that she was in grave peril. Ron and Siria shared their usual looks of mock surprise, which were washed away when Professor Trelawney swooped down on them the moment Umbridge stepped away. [B5, 315]  
According to Professor Trelawney, each of Siria’s dreams described her living a short life with a terrible death. This was not surprising. Not only had Professor Trelawney predicted an early death for Siria for the past two years, Siria knew she was correct. Ever since graveyard, Siria lived on borrowed time.  
“Potter-Black, you have recorded the same dream three times,” Professor Trelawney said in a tone that implied Siria was not aware.  
“I’ve had the same dream,” Siria replied.  
“It’s half your dream diary,” Professor Trelawney snapped.  
“That’s what happens when I have it every other night,” Siria said through gritted teeth.  
“Weasley, have you interrupted this dream properly?” Professor Trelawney asked.  
“Dunno, I think so,” Ron said.  
Professor Trelawney thought otherwise. She went on for the rest of class about how, before Siria’s early and gruesome death, she would be confined. On her deathbed, Siria would be suffocated in her own terror.  
Defense Against the Dark Arts started with Hermione casting another Silencing Charm on Siria. It was then that Siria realized Hermione not only mastered The Standard Book of Spells Grade Five, but nonverbal spells as well. She shouted, in silence, at Hermione, who took hold of Siria’s hand and held it under the desk, while she raised her other.  
“What is it this time, Miss Granger?” Umbridge asked. She left her desk to practically whisper the question at Hermione. Hermione, however, did not whisper. In a clear tone that carried through the class, Hermione explained she read the entire book. Umbridge questioned her on it, but Hermione answered correctly and explained that Slinkhard believed counterjixes were called that to be more acceptable. [B5, 316-317]  
“But I disagree with Slinkhard,” Hermione confessed in the same clear tone that carried through the otherwise silent class. “Mr. Slinkhard doesn’t like jinxes, does he? But I think they’re useful when used defensively.” [B5, 317]  
Umbridge was completely blown by this. She forgot to be soft spoken in her reply and snapped that Hermione’s opinion did not matter. Then Umbridge took away five points for “pointless interruptions.” [B5, 317]  
Silently, Siria listed off things she loved to calm her temper. The more Umbridge spoke, the more difficult it was. What she needed wasn’t something to let voices in, but ear plugs to keep them out. Her grip tightened on Hermione’s hand.  
“...as none of your previous teachers would have passed a Ministry inspection, your silent attention on these age-appropriate materials is what you need,” Umbridge said. “Not opinions on things you clearly do not understand. Now, resume your reading of chapter two.” [B5, 317]  
The next day’s Charms went by in contemptuous silence, as Siria had not forgiven Hermione for silencing her again, but all was forgotten when they entered Transfiguration. In the corner near the door, Umbridge sat with her clipboard. Ron elbowed Siria and whispered “Excellent! Let’s see Umbridge get what she deserves.” Siria could not repress a smile. [B5, 319]  
Professor McGonagall marched in with no sign of acknowledgment to Umbridge. She instructed Seamus Finnigan to hand back the homework and Lavender Brown to hand out mice. Umbridge coughed from her corner, though Professor McGonagall gave no sign of hearing her. The box of mice was intentionally two short, and Professor McGonagall handed each Hermione and Siria a kitten. Umbridge coughed again. [B5, 313-314]  
“Yes?” Professor McGonagall snapped with her eyebrows so close together they made a single, stern line. Umbridge began that she wanted to make sure Professor McGonagall got her notice of inspection, but she was cut off. “Obviously I received it or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom. [B5, 320]  
Siria tried to break back a smile that cracked through. She elbowed Ron, who looked even more elated than she did. Hermione managed not to smile. Neville focused on his desk, a mixture of joy and fear inside him.  
For a short moment, Professor McGonagall returned to instructing them. Umbridge did another fake cough. Sparks flashed in Professor McGonagall’s eyes. “I wonder how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me?” Professor McGonagall asked in controlled fury, “You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.” [B5, 320]  
Though Siria did not need another happy memory to fight off a dementor, she had one. Umbridge looked so shocked one would think Professor McGonagall sunned her. She hesitated for a moment, before straightening herself up and scribbingly sharply on her parchment. [B5, 321]  
Unlike with Professors Vector, Chaudhary, and Trelawney, Umbridge did not follow Professor McGonagall around. She spent the entire period in her corner. When it ended, Umbridge asked how long Professor McGonagall taught for, “Thirty-nine years this December.” Then Umbridge told Professor McGonagall she could expect the results in ten days. [B5, 321]  
“Hurry up, you three,” Professor McGonagall ushered Hermione, Ron, and Siria to leave the class. They remained in hopes of hearing Professor McGonagall knock Umbridge down another notch. Professor McGonagall gave Siria a shadow of smile. [B5, 322]  
Umbridge was down at Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Grubbly-Plank clearly didn’t answer how Umbridge wanted, but was preferred to Hagrid. Then Umbridge circled the class. [B5, 323]  
“Now,” Umbridge said to Malfoy and his gang of cronies, “I hear there have been injuries in this class?” (B5, 323) Hermione jabbed Siria in the ribs with the tip of her wand when she cast the Silencing Charm. Siria gasped and glared at her, but only for a second before turning her glare to Malfoy. He caught her eye or else finally changed.  
“Well, Professor, my father says that’s expected in a class like this,” Malfoy said. Siria slipped the ear plugs from her ears. Clearly, they weren’t working.  
“Run by…” Umbridge implied.  
“Something with less experienced students handling creatures,” Malfoy said. Siria cleaned her ear out with her finger.  
“I see,” Umbridge said.  
“From what I’ve heard, it wasn’t anything Madam Pomfrey couldn’t handle,” Malfoy added.  
“What is happening?” Siria mouthed to Ron. He shrugged. Ron was as confused as her. Hermione pressed her lips together, as if she bit something bitter, but did not share her theory.   
Once Siria had her voice back and they were back in the crowded common room, she took Hermione by the arm. “So what was that?” Siria asked.  
“Maybe he’s turned over a new leaf,” Hermione lied. Siria narrowed her eyes. “It’s silly. Anyways, aren’t you meeting Lily Moon in the library?”  
“She’s patient.”  
“Siria!” Colin tugged on Siria’s sleeve. “I finished my homework.”  
“I’ve got to meet Moon,” Siria said. “Hermione can get it,” and Siria sulked to the library.


	17. The Silent Herald

**The Silent Herald**   


To ensure only Ministry approved, age-appropriate materials are provided to students, the Ministry of Magic passes Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four.  
This states that:  
All media on the premise of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry must be approved by the Hogwarts High Inquisitor. This includes, but is not limited to, textbooks, reference materials, and magazines. Any student in possession of unapproved media will be subject to disciplinary action.  
Hermione put the Daily Prophet down, unable to stomach it further. She pressed her hands to her eyes. Siria rubbed Hermione’s shoulder, unsure of what else to do.  
“What’s it mean though?” Ron asked. “She can’t read every book in the library to see if it’s okay, can she?”  
“I suspect she doesn’t have to,” Siria said. “I mean, chuck out the restricted section then bring in some Ministry goons to sort through for her.”  
“Don’t you understand?” Hermione’s voice shook. Siria pulled her closer. Hermione trembled. “That horrible, awful woman is shutting down the Herald and trying to get Lumos banned from the castle.”  
“After a paper like yesterday’s, you can’t blame her, can you?” Ron shook his head and loaded more bacon onto his plate.  
“Honestly. I’m surprised it took them this long,” Siria said. “You published the school rules in the first issue and then basically reminded her the whole school saw what happened in the graveyard.”  
“I just,” Hermione clenched her fist and looked to the enchanted ceiling. “I just didn’t expect to lose the Herald so soon.” Though Hermione returned her gaze to level, she did not see anything before her.  
“So, you knew Umbridge would take the paper?” Ron asked.  
“Yes.”  
“But you’re all…” he gestured to Hermione with his fork and knife.  
“Just because I knew it was a price we’d pay does not mean I am not allowed to be upset over it,” Hermione snapped.  
“It’s just for the year,” Siria shrugged. “Who knows, maybe the Dark Arts position’s jix will get to her early.”

Kreacher Apparated into the girl’s dorm late on Thursday evening. Lavender gave her usual gasp of surprise. The greying elf extended a small flap purse with a long strap. There was a tag sized note attached to the bag, which Siria smiled at. The fastener of the purse had the same design as Siria’s trunk.  
“Told you he couldn’t stay mad at me,” Siria smiled at Hermione. “Thank you, Kreacher.” She hugged the house elf. “Is your reply in there?”  
“And Mistress’s things,” Kreacher croaked. Siria kissed the top of his bald head. She swung the purse out to Hermione.  
“Kreacher, are you still willing to meet us at Hogsmeade?” Hermione asked.  
“Kreacher is always happy to meet with Mistress,” Kreacher said.  
“Thank you,” Siria said. “It’s probably a chore to visit, but I don’t want our letters read.”  
“Kreacher is happy to be of service to Mistress,” said Kreacher.  
“Sirius isn’t working you too hard, is he?” Siria asked.  
“Master does not work Kreacher. Kreacher does chores for Mistress, so Mistress’s home will be ready to welcome her,” he said.  
“Please take care of yourself,” Siria requested. Kreacher nodded. He stayed for a small cup of tea before he left.  
“I always love his visits,” Parvati confessed. “I was a little wary, at first— him being a house elf and all, but he’s quite sweet.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione snapped.  
“I’m used to them being rude, Hermione— I’m a half blood,” said Parvati.  
“I am too,” said Siria.  
“But you’re ‘Siria Potter’ escaped You-Know-Who how many times now?” she waved it off. “They’re a lot nicer to you than me.”  
“You ought to go down to kitchens with Hermione,” said Siria. “They’ll treat you like a queen.”  
Hermione shook her head, as she rummaged through Siria’s purse. Without asking, she turned Siria’s trunk and marched inside. Siria sighed. She leaned against the side of the trunk with her head dangling over the stairs.  
“Make sure to put my ingredients to the side,” Siria called into the trunk. Hermione was too absorbed in her own world to reply. Madam Pomfrey offered to buy the ingredients, but, if Siria failed again, she didn’t want it to cost someone else. The Matron humored her, but it put Siria’s second attempt on hold.  
There was something soothing about the sounds of Hermione’s mutters and thoughts of the Hospital Wing. They were like a melody she forgot she knew. Like waves, the mutters rocked her into a dark stairwell.  
Siria’s footsteps were silent as she dashed down the stairs. She hurried into a long hallway that ended in a black door. It was a very plain door. Something about it made her stomach twist and her mind turn. Siria hungered for something on the other side.  
To be so close to her desire. The knowledge could feed her for a week or two. It was essential though. She needed it. Siria rattled the door. She needed to know! How could she proceed without it? That had been her mistake. If she could just— but it did. The door gave and opened.  
“Siria!” Hermione hissed and flicked Siria square on the forehead. “You’re impossible! If you’re going to sleep, at least do it out of the way.” With a groan, Siria sat up and rested her head on her knees. She felt her dream leaving her, but had been so accomplished. It was so gratifying to finally… what had she done?  
“What?” Siria asked through a large yawn. Hermione rolled her eyes. She pulled Siria onto her feet.  
“Can you sleep alone?” Hermione grumbled while she half stumbled Siria into her bed. Siria nodded and rolled over. “You’re impossible, you know. You’re neck is going to be a complete wreck tomorrow,” Hermione said as she massaged at Siria’s neck.  
Siria curled into a ball. It hurt. She pulled the blanket over her and guarded her neck. Hermione sighed from Siria’s bedside. “Don’t blame me when you can’t turn to see the Snitch,” she tsked. The sound of Hermione’s footsteps stomping down lead Siria back into the dark, old stone stairwell.

Hermione was awake and surrounded by ancient looking books when morning came. She did not appear to have left Siria’s trunk. Hermione did not notice Siria when she entered. Instead, she flipped through the pages of a very fragile looking book.  
Five potions simmered away. Two of which Siria knew to be early on Polyjuice Potion, though one was much smaller than the usual batch. They both already had the strange burnt walnut scent to them. To their left was the unmistakable and extremely difficult Vitality Potion. Mrs. Warrington taught them the Potion over summer and gave them each a small, compact dose of it. Siria did not recognize the other two, which were identical as far as she could tell.  
“AH!” Hermione screamed and clattered into the desk she was using. Siria’s attention snapped to Hermione as she removed the earplugs. “I— I didn’t hear you,” Hermione gasped. “I don’t know about these afterall,” she confessed and placed the earplugs down. “How do you get by without being sneaked up on?”  
“I only wear them when I have you and Ron with me,” Siria said. “Though I’m a little worried about doing that too…” she sighed at the neon earplugs, while she massaged her stiff neck.  
“Anyways,” said Siria. “What’s with all the Potions?” She waved her arm at the table.  
“Oh, well, I’m trying a few things out,” Hermione said. “One’s very complicated, so I’m trying two. I figure, if I mess up on one, I’ll at least get the second… I hope. I may start another each month, but I don’t want to go overboard.”  
“What do you mean ‘start’?” Siria asked. Hermione sighed and turned back to the old book.  
“It takes time to brew…” then Hermione muttered something.  
“What?”  
“Six months.”  
“Six months? Are you brewing gold?” Siria asked. She stepped closer to the other two cauldrons.  
“We’ll certainly see, won’t we?” Hermione said.  
Siria pulled up a stool to sit beside Hermione. There was a large pot of still warm tea beside a simple teacup and saucer. Beside the teapot stood a minuscule bottle of glowing, yellow liquid. Calling it a “bottle” was generous, as it was smaller than her pinky finger. She reached for it, but Hermione swept the bottle up and clutched it to her chest.  
“Are you running again this morning?” Hermione asked. “You ought to head out, if you want to bathe before breakfast.”  
“R—right,” Siria said. Hermione held the bottle in her left fist and put her hand on the old black book.  
“Are you going to the Hospital Wing today?” Hermione asked.  
“Yeah. I’m stopping by after breakfast,” Siria said. “She thinks we’re almost there with it…” Siria clicked her tongue. “Hermione, whatever it is you’re up to, in here, you can tell me, when you’re ready,” said Siria.  
“Thank you, Siria, but it’s nothing,” Hermione put on a smile that sank Siria’s heart like a cannon to a ship.  
“Course,” Siria nodded. She took a few steps backward before she turned and left the trunk.  
Fay Dunbar ran around the Great Lake with Siria. Neither spoke. The girls stretched out before their second lap. Siria sighed.  
“This might sound weird, so sorry if it does,” Fay began, “but I like that we can just run. We don’t have to talk about boys— or girls, or school. So, thanks, if that makes sense.” It did make sense. Siria appreciated Fay’s company for the same reason. There were times when Fay did talk or when Siria asked something, but never pried and there was no obligation to reply.  
They ran until Lily Moon and Susan Bones sat down on the steps. Lily Moon wore a huge, pink padded coat and a navy knitted cap with navy and white pom pom ball strung to its top. Siria beamed at Lily Moon as she held a towel out to Siria.  
“Thanks, but I’m really sweaty,” Siria wiped her forehead. Her face burned with the blush of cold and Lily Moon.  
“You don’t ‘ave one, right?” Lily Moon asked and raised it closer to Siria’s face. “Please.” Siria bit her lip. She rubbed her cheek against the part of the towel in Moon’s grasp. Lily Moon’s face matched her hair, but she patted Siria’s face with the towel.  
“See ya, Potter-Black!” Fay shook her head and waved as she marched back into the castle with Susan Bones. “Honestly.” Siria chuckled. She accepted the towel from Moon and hung it around her neck.  
“So, you like running?” Lily Moon asked as they took their time with each step back to the castle.  
“I’s okay,” said Siria. “Mostly, I do it for dueling,” Siria confessed. “Cass— Cassius that is— is really good at silent casting. Honestly, I’m kind of rubbish. If I focus and have time, I can, but, in a duel…” Siria absently rubbed her cheek with a corner of the towel. “Until I can cast silently, I have to be able to beat my opponent in speed or outlast them.” Lily Moon squeezed Siria’s hand.  
“I’d love to see you duel, for fun, some day,” Lily Moon said with her eyes on the muddy grounds. “Could I watch you run?”  
“You could run with me,” said Siria, “but I expect watching would be boring.”  
“Oh, I don’t think I’m much one to run, but…”  
“Then I’d love for you watch, when it’s not too cold,” Siria batted pom pom of Lily Moon’s hat. She paused and Moon jerked back.  
“Moon, would you want to learn to duel?” Siria asked in a quiet tone and without looking at her.  
“Of course,” said Lily Moon.  
“But,” Siria looked around then dropped her voice and leaned in close. “Would you want me to teach you?” She blinked, shocked then nodded.  
“Yes. I’d love to,” Lily Moon said. The beautiful smile she wore sucked the breath from Siria’s lungs.  
“How are you with secrets?”  
“Siria Potter-Black, what are you planning?”

A book zipped from the tall shelf, across the room, and into Siria’s hand. She stacked it with the others. Siria had a pile of books almost to her hip. Again, Siria extended her hand to the shelf and pulled as she thought “[Come here]!” Another book flew into her hand and she placed it on the pile.  
She lifted up a different book and examined the symbol on the page. With a finger, Siria drew the symbol on the top book of her pile. “[Stone],” Siria thought while she finished. The top book turned to stone. Her emerald eyes searched from the book of her page to the stone book.  
“Can we talk about the fact you can cast silently in anything that isn’t English?” Maddy asked. “It’s kind of weird.”  
“Thank you, Maddy,” Siria sighed. She flicked through the open book.  
“It is rather odd,” Hermione confessed over the rim of her own book. “Have you given thought as to why?”  
“I can focus on it?” Siria asked as she shook her head.  
“You haven’t been able to use it in a duel,” said Patricia, “which is where I would expect your focus to be at its best.”  
“Is everything ready for tomorrow?” Siria asked to change the topic. She tapped the stone book with her wand. It remained stone.  
“Did your Potion work?” Maddy asked. “You seemed really unsure.”  
“Even if it doesn’t, Hermione’s jinx will,” said Siria.  
“Then, are you having second thoughts?” Alice asked. She reclined on a long chair and bounced a rubber ball off the wall and back to her.  
“No,” Siria snapped and gave the book another tap. It returned to normal. “I just…” she drummed her fingers on the stack of books. “I…” Siria squeezed her eyes shut and raised her head toward the ceiling. “It’s just that I… it’s nothing,” and she opened her eyes to drop her head at stare at the top book.  
This was the path Siria decided on back in Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Weasley would never have to face the reality of her boggart. There wasn’t room for uncertainties.  
When Alice, Maddy, and Patricia left the Room of Requirement, Hermione and Siria returned to the Gryffindor common room. Something struck Siria hard in the stomach the moment her feet touched the ground. Siria groaned and looked down and the mousy brown hair of Colin Creevey. His large round eyes were wide with panic.  
“Episkey!” Siria said with her wand pointed at his nose. Blood continued to pour from his nose. She knelt down. “Colin, what happened?”  
“I— uh,” Colin held his nose and looked over his shoulder. Fred and George jerked for the door.  
“FRED! GEORGE!” Hermione and Siria shouted. They froze as though stunned, and were not the only ones. Younger students and even some of their age or older, stilled. Hermione glared and pointed to the spot before her. Fred eyed George, but the two raised their hands in surrender and walked to the girls.  
“They gave him one of their snackbox sweets,” said Ron.  
“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Hermione bellowed at them. Siria clenched her fists so tight, she was surprised the skin remained unbroken.  
“It was an accident,” said George.  
“Meant to give him the second half of a Nose Bleed Noguet,” said Fred.  
“But might’ve given him a Blood Blisterpod,” said George. [B5, 293]  
Siria pressed her sleeve to Colin’s nose. “Urgh, you’re going to need a Blood Replenishing Potion, let’s hope the Room can make those.”  
On the way to the Room of Requirement, Siria flicked one of her compact mirrors opened and closed. Cassius answered while Siria ripped a Potion from a cabinet and stuffed it into Colin’s hands. George helped Colin by taking the cap off the bottle.  
“Fred is going to tell you everything in these stupid, foolish ‘Blood Blisterpods’ and you’re going to tell Hermione how to fix it,” Siria said. “Please,” she added.  
“Why didn’t you take him to Madam Pomfrey?” Cassius asked.  
“Madam,” Siria slapped her forehead. “Dobby!” Siria called, “Dobby, please!”  
CRACK!  
“Miss Siria Potter-Black!” Dobby bowed. Siria knelt down beside Dobby with a hand on Colin’s shoulder.  
“Dobby,” Siria said, “Dobby, could you please take Colin to Madam Pomfrey?”  
“Of course, Miss,” Dobby nodded and took Colin’s hand. Siria squeezed Colin’s shoulder then let go. Dobby disappeared with another CRACK.  
“How did you know he’d come?” Ron asked. “Winky!” He called, but the small house elf did not appear. “Winky!”  
“Ron!” Hermione snapped and whacked his arm.  
“I didn’t,” Siria confessed, “but Kreacher’s free and he’ll Apparate when I call too.” Siria turned to Cassius’s face in her compact.  
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I panicked when I saw the blood and how pale he was.”  
“It’s fine, but we should take care of those Blood Blisterpods,” Cassius said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He disappeared from the mirror. Siria crouched down on the floor.  
“Why did you even give him one?” Siria snapped at the twins.  
“We told you,” said Fred,  
“We thought it was the cure,” said George.  
“Why— did— Colin— need— it?” Siria asked through gritted teeth. Fred and George shared a glance that caused sparks to fly from Siria’s wand.  
CRACK!  
Dobby appeared down by Siria’s pant leg. She knelt back down to stare at his eye level. “Miss Siria Potter-Black’s friend will be fine,” Dobby squeaked. “The Hogwart’s Matron has stopped the bleeding.”  
“Thank you, Dobby,” Siria breathed with relief. “Is there anything I can do to return the favor?”  
“Dobby is happy to help Miss Siria Potter-Black,” said Dobby.  
“How about a new pair of socks?” Siria asked. “They’re still your favorite, right?”  
“Socks are still Dobby’s favorite, but he does not wish to trouble Miss Siria—” Dobby stopped when Siria raised her hand.  
“Please, let me do something to show my thanks,” she requested. “Is there anything you’d like?”  
“Dobby would like more yarn, if Miss Siria does not mind,” confessed Dobby, as he rocked on the balls of his feet. “Dobby has been making lots of socks for all the house elves.”  
“Yarn it is,” Siria promised.  
When Cassius entered, Dobby left. The twins poured over their ingredient list with Cassius, Hermione, and Siria. Siria mostly watched with Ron as the others prepared ingredients. The Room of Requirement summoned a table covered in candy molds. They poured the Potion into the molds. George waved his wands over the table and the Potion solidified into chocolate like consistency. Fred ate a sweet from his pocket and blood poured from his nose. He ate one of the new ones and it stopped.  
“You know, you aren’t as poor at Potions as you let yourself believe,” Cassius told Siria as he packed the supplies back into the cabinet. She gave a short nod, but did not reply. Siria linked arms with Hermione.  
“See you,” Siria nodded to Cassius. She left with Hermione.  
“Honestly, I can’t believe I just helped them” Hermione grumbled. “You know, I swore to write to their mother if they tested them on first years?”  
“What?”  
“You were on another of your runs, but yes,” Hermione confessed. “Now they’re using third years and Colin, like that’s any better.” She sighed rested head against Siria’s arm as they walked. “I reckon they might stop if you tell them too.”  
“Won’t it make everything more suspicious if George and Fred aren’t getting into some form of trouble?” Siria said. “I mean, the castle would be too quiet, at the least.” [B5, 253-254]


	18. In The Trunk

**In The Trunk**   


A light rain misted down on the Hogwarts grounds. Students, third year and above, lined up on the route to go to Hogsmeade Village. Mixed in with the other students, waiting for Argus Filch to confirm their names, Siria Potter-Black held Lily Moon’s hand.   
For the occasion, Siria wore a knee-length, raw umber, flared skirt with an olive green long sleeve shirt. Black leggings that looked splattered in paint protected her legs from the cold air. She wore her usual black jacket with the Moony & Padfoot logo embroidered into its back and her usual boots. Wrapped around her neck was a yellow and black scarf.  
Lily Moon blushed furiously, with her nose tucked into the crimson and gold scarf wrapped around her neck. She wore her huge, pink padded coat and a navy knitted cap with the pom pom ball strung to its top. Though she painted her nails, Siria couldn’t see with the heated gloves Lily Moon wore.  
Argus Filch leaned in and gave Siria a long sniff. Siria pulled away. “I’ll be watching you, Potter-Black, one sniff of dungbombs and it’s detention for you,” he said. Moon squeezed Siria’s hand to stop her from snapping back. [B5, 334]  
“Why does Filch think you’re smuggling dungbombs?” Lily Moon asked. She swung Siria’s hand as they walked.  
“Someone probably told him for a laugh,” Siria shook her head. “Do you mind if we stop at the craft store?”  
“Not at all,” She smiled. “What kinds of crafts do you do?”  
“Oh, it’s for—” but Siria was drown by whistles and jeers from Pansy Parkinson with her usual girls.  
“Hey Moon, didn’t I tell you Potter’s not a real boy!” Parkinson gasped through her laughter. “She’s just tall!”  
“Ignore her,” Lily Moon tugged Siria’s hand to continue.  
“Moon, you’re so small no one can see you behind Potter” Parkinson added, but Lily Moon marched onward with Siria’s hand.  
“You’re perfectly sized,” Siria grumbled as she loosened the Hufflepuff scarf inside the craft shop, “not a tall boy.” Moon stretched for a jar just out of her reach. Siria gave a half smile, reached over Lily Moon, grabbed the jar, and placed it into her extended hand. With her eyes on the jar and her back so Siria, she smiled.  
“You’re perfectly sized too,” Lily Moon whispered. Siria leaned down. She rested her nose just above Lily Moon’s hat. “You handed Susan and me pots and shovels in Herbology, and Hannah a book in the library…” her voice grew steadily more quiet.  
“Yeah?” Siria asked. Lily Moon turned her chin down to her chest.  
“KHM!” A hoarse cough startled Siria. She snapped her hand from the spot above Moon and stood up. “Can I help you ladies?” asked a short, gruff looking man with a thick enough mustache he had Uncle Vernon beat. Siria pressed the back of her hand to her nose and mouth. She shook her head.  
“No, sir. We’re just… uh,” her eyes scanned around and fell on a barrel of yarn, which she pointed to, “looking for yarn, which we’ve—- er,” Siria stepped up to the barrel, her hand still pressed to her face, “which we’ve found.”  
“And what are you using the yarn for?” the man asked.  
“Oh, it’s a gift,” Siria tilted her head down. Had her hair not been a tight french braid, it may have veiled her face. “My friend makes socks.”  
“Then you don’t want that,” he told her.  
“But yarn is yarn, right?” Siria asked. She glanced at Lily Moon, who rested her head, too embarrassed to look up, against the shelf she stood before.  
After a lecture of different types of yarn, Siria left with more than she intended to buy. Lily Moon bought the jar Siria had grabbed, but seemed unsure what to do with it. The jar was full of different coloured and sized beads. Her upturned brown eyes were glued it.  
“So, what’ll you be making?” Siria asked as they walked down toward the view of the Shrieking Shack.  
“Bracelets?” Lily Moon wondered. She gave the jar a small and gentle shake.  
“You may need some wire or string then,” Siria said.  
“Oh, I suppose I’ll go back after,” she said. Siria let go and pulled a small paper bag from her pocket. She handed the bag over. Lily Moon peered inside. “How did you know?”  
“I figured you were buying the beads to be nice,” Siria said.  
“After he… I couldn’t bring myself to say that I just wanted to show you that you’re fine.”  
“I mean,” Siria took her hand again and smiled, “I’ve got the cutest girlfriend, so I’m pretty fine.”  
Alice sat on a bench in the clearing. The bench was one of five identical wooden, pastel blue painted benches. Alice smirked at Siria and flashed her gold and silver painted nails. “Thought you chickened out after all,” Alice said. She stepped off the bench and opened its chair “The others are already inside.”  
Inside the trunk was a room taken up by a large round table. The middle of the table had been carved out, to make a large ring. Cassius stood over a chair, furthest from the steps. Cedric stood in the middle of the room, counting chairs and names with Hermione, over some crates. Maddy and Patricia sat a chair to Cassius’s left. Ron sat two chairs to Cassius’s right. He nodded to Siria, who gave a short nod back.  
“Over here,” Cassius beckoned Siria. She followed with Lily Moon’s hand in hers. As she passed, Siria patted Ron’s shoulder.  
“All the way over here?” Siria asked him.  
“I’s so people can see us when they enter,” Cassius told her. He extended a hand to Lily Moon. “Cassius Warrington.”  
“Lily Moon,” she whispered as she shook his hand. “Is there somewhere I should sit?”  
“Any chair on the other side of that one,” and Cassius pointed to the empty chair beside Ron. “Colin’ll already be disappointed to be so far from you and without Dennis.”  
“Second year,” Siria clicked her tongue. Lily Moon patted Siria’s arm.  
“You’ll do great,” she said, “both of you.”  
“Sweet girl,” Cassius leaned in to whisper when Moon sat down. “What’s she doing with a brute like—” Siria socked in him in the arm. “I’m only joking,” he laughed. “We’ve got a few extra chairs,” Cassius began.  
“A few,” Siria hissed and looked around the room. There were at least fifty seats in the room. “Are you kidding me?”  
“P.B., we opened the lessons to anyone we thought trustworthy,” Cassius put his hands on her shoulders. “Whether is was one student or one hundred, you could teach them on your own—”  
“I—”  
“You could,” he gave her a light shake. “And if we taught a hundred people, think of how many lives they could save.”  
Siria scanned around the room. Her mind filled them with fellow Hogwarts students. It aged them, to well after the war. All but one chair was filled in future she hoped for. If she taught them well enough, her chair would be the only empty one.  
Cassius and Siria took their seats. Cedric sat beside Patricia. Hermione took the seat behind Siria and held her hand beneath the table. Siria nodded. The door opened. Daphne Greengrass led Astoria and Colin down the stairs. Millicent Bulstrode followed Astoria’s friends Ren Franklin, Leah Greyson, and Jeanie Brewer. The lid closed.  
“I wanted to smuggle Dennis in, but he said that, as long as he can still come, he doesn’t mind,” Colin told Siria. He stood between Siria and Hermione. “Can I take pictures?” He asked and raised the camera around his neck.  
“Not today, Colin,” Hermione said. “Maybe once we have a few lessons.”  
“People probably want to be told there’ll be a picture,” Siria said.  
“Okay,” Colin sighed.  
“Colin,” Ron called. He patted the back of the chair beside him.  
“I get to sit there?” Colin asked. He rushed into the seat, before Ron could change his mind. “I didn’t think you liked me.”  
The door opened again. Cho Chang entered with her friend, Siria thought her name was Mary Edgecombe, or something along that. They sat with Cedric. Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, filed in. Soon after, Neville, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, and Parvati and Padma Patil came down the stairs. They were followed by Ginny, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot. [B5, 337-338]  
Under the table, Siria fumbled with her earplugs. After she snuck up on Hermione, she had not worn them. It was unlikely, but Siria hoped they would keep out the thundering of her heart. She slipped them in and caught the door opening again.  
Susan Bones entered with her fellow Hufflepuff fifth years, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and a Hufflepuff Quidditch team member Siria thought was called Smith. Cedric’s friends followed right after, Benjamin Wilkins, Gilbert Snow, Jon Pack, Trevor Racer, and Doris Nelson. [B5, 337-338]  
Fay Dunbar, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Luna Lovegood came down the stairs. Then Fred and George with Lee Jordan. A few minutes went by the nothing. People chattered with frequent glances to Cassius and Siria. Finally, Alice Travers climbed down the stairs. She nodded to Cassius and Siria and made her way to the seat beside Cassius. [B5, 337-338]  
“A few,” Siria repeated under her breath. There were maybe ten chairs open and scattered about. Sirius apparently designed the room to fit sixty some odd people. She felt a little lucky that less arrived. As it was, could she watch the twenty or so pairs of people that would duel in the Chamber of Secrets?  
Beneath the table, Cedric gave a quick wave of his wand. The crates opened. Bottles of butterbeer flew out, one to a person, from the first crate. Then a pumpkin pasty on a napkin zoomed up from the other crate, and out to each chair.  
There was a short moment of excited chatter, in which people opened their bottles. Then silence fell, and eyes fell on Cassius and Siria. A speech. Cold water splashed over her. They expected someone to speak. Siria was on her feet before she realized.  
“You know why you’re here,” Siria told them, “unless you took a very wrong turn in the town,” she added with a short smile. “Cassius and I are offering Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons because— well, Umbridge isn’t,” a few people whistled and Siria tried to still her heart. Words bounced through her head like she was on Veritaserum.  
“It’s fine if you’re here to pass your O.W.L. or N.E.W.T., but this is about more than that,” Siria took a full breath. Her chest rose and with it her head and shoulders. “This is about survival. Voldemort is back—”  
“Says you,” said the Hufflepuff Quidditch player. Siria arched an eyebrow in striking resemblance to Professor McGonagall. She smiled to forced back her knee-jerk retort of “can you see?” which was far too like Snape.  
“Who are you?” Ron asked with glare. Siria’s smile lost its tension.  
“Zacharias Smith,” said the boy “and I think we’ve got the right to know exactly what makes them” he looked at Cassius and Siria, “say You-Know-Who is back.” [B5, 340]  
“Smith,” said Siria, “where were you during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament?” Siria asked.  
“I was in the stands,” said Smith.  
“What did you do during the task?” Siria asked.  
“Watched the mirrors,” he said, his voice shrank.  
“If someone asked you to recount what you saw, what would you say?” Siria asked.  
“Not sure what I saw.”  
“What makes you think you can trust what you hear from me then?” Siria asked him. She turned her attention to the rest of the room.  
“We aren’t here to recount what happened in the graveyard— if you think you want to know what it’s like to be surrounded by Death Eaters with Voldemort trying to kill you, you’re mistaken,” Siria told them. “Cassius and I are offering to teach people who want to learn how to defend themselves. We’ve made a system to contact you on where and when the meeting will be, and tell you who will be teaching—”  
“You won’t be teaching?” Seamus Finnigan asked.  
“Cassius and I are sharing the duty,” said Siria. “He’ll teach some, I’ll teach some, and we’ll teach together sometimes. It’ll make it more difficult for Umbridge to figure out.”  
“What will you be teaching?” Anthony Goldstein asked. Siria bit her tongue for a moment. She wanted to push through, but saw only more interruptions from here.  
“Dueling, protective spells, and, when we can, tactics,” Siria said with a sigh, “should I open the floor to questions for a moment?” Susan Bones’s hand shot into the air. “Yes?”  
“Will you be teaching the Patronus Charm?” Susan Bones asked (B5, 341).  
“Yeah,” Siria nodded, “it’s one of the spells we’re planning for after break. We’ll be teaching a lot of the spells we used in the Triwizard Tournament, and,” Siria paused, “and a few from the graveyard.”  
“Is it true you killed a basilisk with the sword in Dumbledore’s office?” Terry Boot asked Siria. He looked down when she looked at him. “One of the portraits told me,” he added (B5, 342).  
“She did!” said Colin Creevey. Siria smiled at him then at Terry Boot.  
“Yes, though, if not for Fawkes, I wouldn’t’ve survived it,” Siria confessed. “The basilisk pierced my arm.” Lavender gasped.  
“Did it leave a scar?” Colin asked.  
“No,”  
“It didn’t,” Lavender told them. Siria tried not to blush.  
“In our first year, Siria saved the Sorcerous Stone—” Neville told them (B5, 342).  
“Sorcerer’s” Hermione hissed in correction (B5, 342).  
“That was a lot of luck, and Hermione and Ron were with me,” Siria said. “Which brings me to where I was heading, so please hold onto your questions. Cassius and I can teach you what we know, we can show you how to duel, but there’s no guarantee it will save you. When you’re staring danger in the face, you’ll see how prepared it is for you.” She closed her eyes and filled her lungs again. “It’s always changing and ready to strike again with more force.  
“We could practice for years, but if you can’t be adaptable, if you can’t,” Siria reached above her heart, as if she could grab the force she wanted to tell them about. “If you can’t light a fire under yourself to push on, you’ll get swallowed up. So, we can teach you the spells and how to make a plan, but I don’t know if we can teach you a reason to get back up or to fight when it looks hopeless.”  
They were silent. Siria sat back down. She kept herself firm against the chair. Her hands gripped it so tight they hurt. Had she gone too far? Wouldn’t it be cruel to give them false hope?  
“Well,” Hermione rose, “are we agreed we want to take lessons from Siria and Cassius?” (B5, 343). A general murmur of agreement carried around the room. “Then,” Hermione hesitated and looked at her bag, “I think...”  
“Hang on,” Angelina said when Hermione paused again, “this can’t clash with Quidditch.” [B5, 344]  
“It has to!” Siria interrupted over Cho Chang and Zacharias. “Listen: Cassius and I are going to try to do at least two lessons a week— people are going to miss some and that’s for the better. If someone thinks they figured what’s going on, it’ll be hard to get how many students or which if people sometimes miss lessons.”  
“Yes,” Hermione said. “Anyone who misses a lesson, can ask another member about what they missed and catch up in the next lesson. Personally, though, this is rather important, we’re talking about learning to defend ourselves against Vol— Voldemort and the Death Eaters—” (B5, 344)  
“Well said!” Ernie Macmillan agreed (B5, 344). “I think this is possibly the most important thing we’ll do this year, even with our O.W.L.” He paused, waiting for someone to protest, but no one did. “I’m at a loss to see why the Ministry would send such a teacher, who actively prevents us from using defensive spells—” [B5, 344]  
“We’ve been told,” said Hermione, “that, the Ministry has the ridiculous idea that Dumbledore is raising students into a private army.” Everyone except those who stayed at Grimmauld Place over summer and Luna Lovegood looked surprised. [B5, 345]  
“That makes sense,” said Luna, “After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army.”  
“What?” Neville asked. Siria read enough of Quibbler to think Luna’s sources may not be accurate. [B5, 345]  
“Hermione,” Siria called before Hermione could argue with Luna about this. “You were saying?”  
“Yes,” Hermione sighed, “Yes.” She pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from her bag. “We need to come up with a name, to promote team spirit and unity.” [B5, 346 & 391]  
“Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?” Angelina joked (B5, 391)  
“Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Groups?” Fred asked (B5, 392).  
“I was hoping for something that didn’t tell everyone what we’re up to, so we can discuss it in public,” she said and frowned at Fred (B5, 392).  
“What about the Defense Association or the D.A.?” Cho proposed (B5, 392)  
“D.A. is good,” said Ginny, “but we should make it be for ‘Dumbledore’s Army,’ since that’s what the Ministry is most afraid of.” (B5, 392).  
Hermione held a vote, which was almost unanimous. She tilted her parchment accordingly then glanced around the room. “I think everyone should write their name down, just so we know who was here and,” Hermione hesitated with the quill in her hand, “and if you sign, you’re agreeing not to tell anyone— Umbridge, the Ministry, other students— what we’re up to.”  
“But,” Zacharias said, “we had to sign for you to tell us about here.” Hermione pulled a few sheets of parchment out of her bag. She put one with Zacharias Smith’s signature, and several others on top. Hermione showed it to him then handed them to Cassius. He tapped them with his wand and they turned to ash.  
“That was so people would agree not to tell Umbridge about this meeting and here,” Hermione said. “I’m more worried someone will tell about the future.”  
Siria took the parchment from Hermione and signed. Cassius did the same and they slid the parchment, quill, and ink down and around the table. Zacharias paused and glared at them.  
“Sign or you’re out,” Cassius said. His voice startled Zacharias, as it was first thing Cassius said the entire meeting. “If you can’t put your name down, then you already don’t have what it takes to risk your life to save it.” Zacharias signed. He glared at Cassius, but no one else hesitated. [B5, 346]  
When the parchment returned to Hermione, she signed. It felt as though they signed a contract (B5, 347). Cassius and Siria knew they had. The question was if Hermione knew as much about magical contracts as she hoped.  
“Our first lesson is tomorrow morning, after breakfast,” Siria told them, “show up at Moaning Myrtle’s.”  
“What?” Michael Corner asked. “But that’s a girl’s—”  
“It’s also out of order,” said Jeanie Brewer, one of Astoria’s friends, “And too small for all of us.”  
“Take a leap of faith and show up, or don’t,” Siria told them. She flourished her hand at the stairs and door.  
“I’ll be there,” Michael Corner said.  
“See you then,” Siria told him and the others.  
Students filed out in small groups. A knock on the lid of the bench told them that it was clear. Lily Moon left with Susan Bones. Siria waited until only Hermione, Ron, Cassius, and Alice remained. They left together. Cassius tapped the bench with his wand and it shrunk to pocket size. Alice took his arm and they said their goodbyes.  
“Mistress,” Kreacher croaked. He pulled off Siria’s Invisibility Cloak and gave her a gummy grin.  
“You did fantastic,” Siria told him and knelt to eye level. “Everything is all set. Thank you.”  
“Kreacher is happy to help Mistress,” he said.  
“Is there anything I could help you with?” Siria asked.  
“Kreacher is fine. It is Kreacher’s duty to help his Mistress,” he told her. She resisted reminding him that he was free. Siria handed Hermione the Cloak and Hermione put it in her bag with the pocket sized bench.  
“Thank you, really” Siria smiled. “If there is something I can do to return the favor, I’d like to.”  
“Kreacher is fine,” he assured her. “Kreacher does have work to do, if Mistress is done.”  
“Yes, of course,” she hugged Kreacher. “Take care of yourself.”  
“Kreacher has Mistress’s mail,” he said and handed Siria a stack of letters.  
CRACK  
“Siria Potter-Black, charmer of house elves,” Ron said with a gesture of viewing a banner. Siria rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, mate, Dobby and Kreacher both.”  
“Hermione’s more suited for the title,” Siria said. “They were convinced being free was worse than death until she logiced them into freedom.”  
“Like you ‘logiced’ Zacharias Smith?” Hermione asked.  
“Oh? Did I?” Siria replied with a note of being overly casual. “Compared to what you can do, I wouldn’t think twice about my little thing.”  
“Hm,” Hermione bumped her shoulder into Siria’s as they walked, “I wonder.”  
“You think they’ll show?” Ron asked.  
“They will,” Hermione said. “They definitely will.”


	19. Dumbledore’s Army

**Dumbledore’s Army**   


Myrtle looked even more depressed than usual, as she sat above the sinks on Sunday morning. Her translucent eyes followed Siria Potter-Black along. With her wand, Siria dried the large puddles on the chipped, water stained floor. Whenever Siria glanced over her shoulder, Myrtle turned away.  
“Have you thought about joining our group therapy?” Siria asked Myrtle. Myrtle scoffed.  
“That rubbish meeting where you all talk about your feelings?” She laid back, flat along the top of the sinks.  
“Yeah.”  
“Who’d even want me there?”  
“You,” Siria said. She tucked her wand into her jacket pocket. Myrtle glanced under her glasses, at Siria, without sitting up.  
“No one would listen to me.”  
“I would.”  
“You listen to everyone.”  
“Doesn’t mean I’d listen any less,” Siria said. The bathroom door creaked open and Myrtle dove into her bathroom stall.  
“No one else showed?” Zacharias Smith asked with his nose in the air. Siria had half a mind to kick him.  
“They’re already in,” she told him. Siria drew, with her finger, over one of the sinks, which disappeared to reveal the opened passage to the Chamber of Secrets. “Go on,” Siria said with a jerk of her head. “Waiting on a few others.” Zacharias Smith glared at the passage.  
“How do I know it’s not a trap?” he asked.  
“You should assume everything is a trap,” Siria smiled at him. He did not return the smile. “It was a reference… I,” Siria sighed. “You can either wait up here with me or—” but the door swung open again.  
Astoria Greengrass giggled as she, her three Slytherin friends, Daphne, and Millicent Bulstrode slipped in. Bright eyed as ever, Astoria waved to Siria with a large smile. Siria returned the smile with one just as wide.  
“I’m so excited!” Astoria whispered. Siria chuckled. “I hardly slept,” she confessed.  
“Same,” Siria hugged Astoria then nodded to Daphne and the others. “You’re the last ones. Ready?” They lined up beside the sink, with Zacharias at the front and Siria at the back. “Now, once you reach the end, get up and move.”  
“What?” Zacharias Smith asked, but slid down. They listened to him cry in shock.  
“It’s not that bad,” Siria told them. “As good as any giant stone slide plummeting to the depths of a school.”  
When it was only Siria, she wrote with her fingers on the sides of the sinks beside the slide. The illusion of the sink filled the spot and hid her. Myrtle watched, as though she could see, Siria hop down the slide.  
They walked down the Hedera Meridiem lit path. A small garden snake met them at the first lock. It hissed a greeting at Siria, who replied. Zacharias Smith eyed her over his shoulder, but continued.  
While the new arrivals stood around with those that had waited, Siria walked to Cassius. He watched the students with his arms crossed. His brows were furrowed. Siria laughed.  
“You’re glaring at them,” she told him. He dropped his gaze to the ground.  
“I don’t mean to,” he said.  
“I know,” she patted his shoulder. “Pull yourself together or you’ll die of the stress.” The corner of his lip twitched into a small smile.  
“Wise words,” he grumbled.  
“I know— I’m pretty wise,” she bragged. He shook his head.   
“Let’s do this,” Cassius said and extended his first. Siria tapped it with her own.  
“Alright!” Siria called. Quiet blanketed them. The Chamber was lit with small, hovering suns. “Dumbledore’s Army, welcome to the Chamber of Secrets,” she let the whispers of awe die out. “Salazar Slytherin built this Chamber to hold his monster,” Siria pointed to the remains of the basilisk, pushed against the far wall. “Voldemort used it to torment the school twice, so it’s only fair we take it over and use it against him.” Unconscious of it, Siria paused and gripped her right arm.   
“Now then,” Siria clapped. “Cassius and I figured we’d do a short duel, to give you an idea of what they’ll look like, then show you the first spell before breaking you into pairs.”  
“Before that,” Hermione said and eyes fell on her. She walked, her arms rigid at her side, to beside Siria and Cassius. “We ought to elect a leader— an official leader.” Siria gritted her teeth and hoped her glare did not show.  
“Siria’s leader,” said Colin, “isn’t she?” he looked at Cassius, who watched Siria.  
“Well, if we put it to a vote, it would make it official and give Siria authority,” Hermione said.  
“Fine,” Siria resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  
“Those in favor of electing Siria as leader,” Hermione raised her hand. Colin and Dennis fired their hands up. Others went up, Cassius included. Siria kept her hands down, linked in front of her, and her focus on the wall behind the hands.  
“That’s a majority,” Hermione smiled at Siria, who silently noted herself, Cho Chang’s friend, and Zacharias Smith as the abstainers. “Which brings me to these,” and Hermione pulled a Galleon from her pocket. Ron opened the shoebox and started to hand one out to teach person. “These look like normal Galleons, but they’re fake,” Hermione explained. “Where the serial number would be, will be the teacher— five for Siria, seven for Cassius—, location— two for the Chamber, four for the seventh floor corridor—, and time. When Siria sets the numbers on hers, the Protean Charm I placed will cause the coins to grow warm and change to match it.” [B5, 398]  
Blood filled Hermione’s face as the silence continued. Siria held Hermione’s shoulder. “You can do a Protean Charm?” Terry Boot asked  
“Oh, yes,” Hermione nodded.  
“Why aren’t you in Ravenclaw?”  
“The Sorting Hat considered it, but decided on Gryffindor in the end.” [B5, 398-399]  
“Thank goodness,” Siria beamed at Hermione, “or I’d’ve died by second year.” Siria slipped a whistle from around her neck. She handed it and a stopwatch to Hermione.  
“Ready?” Siria asked Cassius, he nodded. Hermione stood before the rest of the students. She, Alice, Cedric, Maddy, and Patricia formed a line. “Stay behind Hermione and the others,” Siria told the crowd. “They’ll block any spells that ricochet,” Siria ran her fingers over her braided hair. She put eyedrops in then smiled at Cassius. They bowed.  
WHEE!  
Hermione blew hard on the whistle as she started the time. Cassius sent a silent bolt of violet at Siria. “Protego!” She knocked the spell away. “Spongify!” Siria said with her wand pointed to the ground. Cassius fired a jet of red, which Siria blocked with a Shield Charm. “Aguamenti!” Siria called a rush of water from her wand that doused Cassius and the ground.  
Another jet of red charged at Siria, who sent it away. She called out “FUMOS!” and a smokescreen of dense fog surrounded them. Violet then blue light flashed in Siria’s general direction. She bounced on the floor affected by her Softening Charm then jumped. In the air she pointed at the spot she leapt from “Glacius!” Cold air froze the water along the Chamber floor. Siria led it to Cassius’s direction. She drew “[Air]” on her hand and blew into it. The air that erupted from her hand was greater than her breath could ever be and cleared the smoke.  
It revealed Cassius, frozen in a thin shell of ice that stopped mid torso. His lips were pressed thin, half in cold and half in distaste. Siria let out a small laugh. She thawed his arm with the Hot Air Charm then the two thawed the rest of him.  
“So, I’d like to give a few notes, open for questions, then demonstrate the spell we’re learning today,” Siria said. “Cassius didn’t say any of his spells, which gives him an advantage because I don’t know what’s coming my way. We’ll get into silent casting later, but we wanted to show the advantage. I know some of you can do nonverbal casting, but, if you’d please say each new spell the first few times, it’ll help us help you.”  
Siria paused. She felt surprised no one interrupted her, but more surprised at their focused stares. Stares were normal, but not like these— what even was that expression?  
“All the spells I used were Charms,” Siria continued, “and not just because I’m charming.” Ron rolled his eyes, but it made Siria smile more. She winked at Lily Moon, who shook her head. “But to show you that it isn’t about what spell you use— it’s about how you use it. So,” Siria clapped her hand over her fist, “questions?”  
After a few minutes of questions, Cassius and Siria lined up again. “We’ll be doing the Disarming Charm today,” Siria explained.  
“Oh, please,” said Zacharias Smith and he rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help—” (B5, 392)  
“If you’re so good, get up here and disarm me,” Siria said.  
“What?” He asked. He looked to Ernie MacMillan, who shook his head and looked pointedly away.  
“I said, if you’re so good, why don’t you help demonstrate?” Siria opened her arms wide to welcome him up, but Zacharias Smith stepped back. “Do you know what stops someone attacking? Making them unable to. If you take away a person’s wand, most wizards are hopeless. Disarming is easier than stunning, so we’re starting there.”  
As Zacharias Smith had no further comment, Cassius and Siria took their positions again. They demonstrated the Disarming Charm a few times. Next they asked everyone to pair up and spread out. Cassius walked around with twenty-three pairs in a counter-clockwise motion while Siria walked clockwise. [B5, 393]  
Zacharias Smith seemed to send his own wand flying anytime he opened his mouth. Though Siria clicked her tongue, she smiled when she approached Fred and George. The twins took turns on Smith, rather than each other. She arched a half approving eyebrow at them. [B5, 393]  
“Sorry, Siria,” George said with an unapologetic grin (B5, 294). Siria eyed Smith over her shoulder.  
“Aspera Voce!” Siria hissed.  
“EXPELL—” Smith started, but startled at the sound of his hoarse voice.  
“Vox Reditus!” Siria hissed.  
“My voice,” Smith called, but his voice was normal.  
“That’s our girl,” Fred gave Siria’s arm a light punch.  
“Really though, practice on each other, or help someone who’s not getting it,” Siria told them as she walked onto the next pair.  
Cassius and Siria met near Salazar Slytherin’s feet and compared notes. “Did you hear Smith’s voice?” Cassius asked.  
“Hm?” Siria replied in feigned innocence. Cassius sighed and checked his watch.  
“Do you want to break them for part two before lunch?” he asked. Siria looked at her watch. They were already in lunch time.  
WHEE!  
Siria blew on the whistle. “It is lunch, if people want to head out,” Siria said. Those with watches protested that lunch only just started. “I suppose we could add the second step then, if people are happy to stay?” Siria proposed. The others formed a ring around Cassius and Siria, in the middle. Cassius disarmed Siria then summoned her wand to him. She did the same to him. They did it once more then explained the Summoning Charm.   
“You used a Summoning Charm on your broom then, in the first task,” said Colin Creevey. Siria nodded.  
“Break back into your pairs and give it a try,” Siria instructed, “Cassius and I will circle around twice then we’ll break for the day.” She started with Colin and Dennis, who were both so excited they missed each other by yards.  
“Come here,” Siria told Colin and Dennis. She had them stand beside each other. “It’s a quick, but firm point at the target,” she explained as she showed them the Disarming Charm. “The Summoning Charm, for me, is about desire— I WANT that wand, more than anything.” The Creevey brothers followed her motions. “Now,” Siria hurried a few yards from them, “Colin.”  
“Expelliarmus!” Colin screwed up his face. Siria’s wand flew out of her hand.  
“Now!” She told him.  
“ACCIO!” Colin called. The wand zoomed toward him and he caught it.  
Dennis disarmed Siria, but summoned nothing. She caught her wand and smiled at him. “It’s okay,” she assured him. “Try again. You did really well on the first step.” Her wand raised out of her hand. Then toward Dennis. It stopped halfway between them. “That was even better,” Siria told him as she picked up her wand. “Go ahead and practice more with Colin, I’ve—” Siria fell silent at the watching eyes she was oblivious too.  
“Can you show me now?” Neville asked from the group of onlookers. Siria glanced to her watch.  
“I think we ought to break soon, but I’ll start with you next lesson,” Siria told him. “I hope to practice with everyone on something,” she confessed and continued to circle the groups. Those that paused to watch Siria teach the Creevey brothers took their practice back up.  
“You spoil them,” Cassius reminded Siria when they met for the second time around the students. “There are other people just as worthy of your attention.”  
“And I’ll see to them,” Siria said. She blew the whistle and dismissed them. The core group aided students in ascending up the slide then returned for their group therapy.

Umbridge’s classes became bearable with the knowledge of their resistance. Everyone, even Neville, could disarm their opponent. Most of them could summon the disarmed wand. Cassius started Dumbledore’s Army on Stunning, in their second lesson. With Cassius and Siria teaching on their own, Dumbledore’s Army had seven meetings by their third week.  
“Ms. Evans, care to share?” Professor McGonagall snapped in Transfiguration one morning. Everyone froze and looked around. Siria especially. Professor McGonagall stared right at her.  
“Who?” Siria asked, her transfigured dark red hair framing her freckled face. She hunched closer to her desk and crumpled the poem on it. Siria considered eating it. Professor McGonagall flicked her wand upward. Siria’s freckles vanished. Her hair returned to its wild dark mane.  
“As I was saying,” Professor McGonagall resumed her pacing. “Educational Decree Twenty Four means the informational flyers known as ‘Lumos’ may not be discovered on school grounds. Should you receive a flyer, you must turn them into the High Inquisitor. Under no circumstance should you duplicate the flyer, especially through means like Gemino or any duplication Charm.” She arched an eyebrow at Hermione and Siria from under the brim of her hat.  
“She knows,” Siria thought. “She knows and wants to help— and mistook me for my mum!” Siria walked up to Professor McGonagall after class.  
“Yes, Ms. Potter-Black?” Professor McGonagall asked.  
“Was it the eyes?” Siria joked, “‘Ms. Evan’s’ eyes?”  
“It was the cheek,” Professor McGonagall said. Siria smiled and Professor McGonagall returned it. “Hurry onto class.”


	20. Halloween Heartbreak

**Halloween Heartbreak**   


Late Saturday afternoon, well after she watched the other students reach or even leave the Great Hall on the Marauder's Map, Siria chatted with Myrtle. In all the time Siria knew Myrtle, she’d never looked less gloomy. Myrtle even smiled.  
“When will the next one be?” Myrtle asked when Siria rose to leave. Siria wondered.  
“Soon, I hope. Angelina’s been crazy with Quidditch practice— not that I mind,” Siria said. “Maybe Monday or Tuesday?” She pulled her bag over her shoulder. “See you then?”  
“I suppose you might,” Myrtle said, but there was a ghost of a smile on her face.  
Siria peered out the door then headed toward the Great Hall. For a moment, all of Siria’s mistakes crashed down on her: the voice only earplugs were in, she didn’t check the Map before she left, her wand was in her jacket, and she was alone. An arm barred her to the wall. The other pointed a wand at her.  
“I want in, Potter-Black,” Draco Malfoy said. Siria glared under the rim of her glasses at him. “Your club or secret lessons— whatever.” His leaned against the arm that barred her.  
“What’re you talking about?” Siria asked. Her voice was strained. He took a half step back, but kept her pinned and the target of his pointed wand.   
“You’re up to something in there Potter-Black, you all disappear to somewhere,” he said.  
“Malfoy, did you go into a girl’s toilet? A prefect, my word” Siria smiled.  
“Just,” Malfoy let go and stepped back. She eyed him then the nook. Siria wanted to push him down and sprint away, or else jump out of the window. Neither seemed practical. He put his wand in his pocket and traded it for what looked like a weed.  
The ground crumbled beneath Siria’s feet. Her throat constricted. Somehow, in it all, she extended her hand. Malfoy put the thin, tall green stalk of yellow orange flowers in her grasp.  
“It’s for encouragement,” his usual smug, drawl of a voice was quiet and short. Siria gazed from the flower to him.  
“Is it now?” she asked, her voice too strained for the casual tone she wanted. Siria knew exactly what it was for. Goldenrods were the only flower she knew the meaning of. “Did it make it easier to ambush me in the corridor and knock me into a wall?”  
“I want to join,” he said.  
“You can’t have everything you want” Siria said and stuffed the goldenrod into his chest. “Keep your encouragement,” she said as his hand closed around it. The other grabbed her wrist.  
“Malfoy, if I were leading underground lessons, you’d be the last person invited,” Siria told him. He tightened his grip. “You’re the last one who’d need them.” The goldenrod fell to the floor when she tried to pull away.  
“You have a week to let me or I’ll tell Umbridge,” he hissed through clenched teeth.  
“Go right ahead,” she rose her arm to strike him, but Malfoy let go. He stepped away, arms raised.  
“One week, Potter-Black.”  
“I won’t change my mind!”  
“We’ll see.”

The neon earplugs mocked Siria as they landed only a few feet from her. She screamed into the room and stormed into her trunk. Siria bellowed into the Potion room. Her impulse was to throw the cauldrons of unknown Potion. She even reached for one, but stopped.  
“Her— Hermione,” Siria told herself. She stepped away from the Potions. Her hands opened and closed around the air. “Ron, Transfiguration, the DA, Lily Moon, Dad, Kreacher, movie night” Siria listed. She crumbled in the corner of the room. Pampered, pureblood, Draco Malfoy gave her the box before the first task— the ribbon she wore in her hair thinking someone sweet wanted to silently support her. The box was familiar because he shared sweet boxes with her, for that short time they had been “friends”. He sent the goldenrod when she was alone. His writing was clearer, smaller, but the sharpness— the card flashed in her mind. How could she not have recognized the writing? Or the scent? They were apple. It was all apple.  
“There you—” Hermione’s voice started, but stopped. She thundered down the stairs to Siria’s side. “Siria!” She pulled Siria’s face up and in her hands. “Oh, P.B., what happened?” Hermione used her thumb to wipe at the smudged mulberry eyeliner under Siria’s eyes.  
“Malfoy knows,” Siria said, “about the lessons.”  
“But, but we had a fake you or Cassius in the library or in the common room— why hasn’t he told Umbridge?” Hermione asked.  
“He wants to join,” Siria let her head fall back to her knees. “It’s my fault. When Lily Moon agreed to reschedule, I bumped into Malfoy and told him I thought we could be friends.”  
“Oh,” Hermione hugged Siria’s arm. She cuddled up to Siria’s side and rested her head on Siria’s shoulder.  
They were warm and silent for a moment. She signed, but explained the box of candies, the goldenrod, and the box for her birthday were from Malfoy. It didn’t make sense. He was so confrontational in person. Malfoy brought an old Daily Prophet on the train to mock her, even after she called it garbage.  
“Well, I thought he liked you,” Hermione said. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not saying he’s going about showing it right, but he certainly tried to ask you to the Yule Ball.”  
“No. He didn’t,” Siria argued.  
“He did, but you were too focused on Krum asking me,” she said. Hermione rubbed Siria’s arm. “And he’s always looking your way in the Great Hall. He was livid when Cassius sat in your line of sight the first time.”  
“It doesn’t matter if he likes me— I like Lily Moon and he called you that,” snapped Siria.  
“He hasn’t since,” Hermione said in a very quiet voice.  
“Because I’d knock his teeth out,” Siria grumbled. She nuzzled her head on Hermione’s arm.   
“Malfoy is aware enough of you to notice which is the real you,” said Hermione. “Even with Lavender as a Polyjuice you in the library with me, Malfoy cornered the real you. He’ll know if we continue, even if we have five Sirias running around.”  
Siria held her head in her hands. “Mudblood” echoed through her mind, in Malfoy's voice. The sneer on his pale, pointed face. His glare in the hospital wing after their fight. He had not said the word since, in Siria’s presence at least, but it didn’t mean he left it unsaid.  
Did she, Siria Potter-Black, the Girl Who Lived, the elected leader of Dumbledore’s Army help him— Draco Malfoy, son of known Death Eater, bully, blood purest snob, elitist? “Dudley changed,” a voice inside her argued. Siria held the whistle Dudley sent her. “I’m don’t know if there’s a way taught in your school, but I want to help,” he wrote her. If Dudley Dursley, son of Magic-Hating Vernon, bully, could change, why not Draco Malfoy?

Fog covered the Hogwarts grounds, even as Siria and Fay finished their morning run. Fay patted her face with her shirt. She hid behind Siria’s shoulder. Siria searched around, but only saw Lily Moon and Terry Boot, on the steps of the castle. She waved. Fay pulled on Siria’s arm.  
“I’m all sweaty,” Fay whispered into Siria’s ear. “It’s gross.”  
“Who are you? Lavender?” Siria teased. She puckered her lips. Fay pushed Siria’s face away, and Siria laughed.  
“Potter-Black, who wants to date a sweaty girl?” Fay snapped.  
“Um, Moon, but she’s taken,” Siria grinned until Fay kicked her square in the shin. She threw an arm around Fay and marched toward the castle.  
“Hello, Lovely Lily Moon and Terry Boot,” Siria smiled.  
“She’s lovely and I’m just Terry?” Terry Boot asked. Moon rolled her eyes and handed Siria the clean towel.  
“Sorry, Terry, not my type,” Siria laughed. She linked fingers with Lily Moon, pecked her on the cheek, and waved to Fay. “See you two.” Lily Moon smiled over her shoulder at Fay and Terry, as she and Siria walked up the stairs.  
“Yesterday’s poem was really sweet,” Lily told Siria. “Though, I don’t think you actually meant I’m ‘cute as mutton’.”  
“Mutton is sheep though, you know, they’re all soft and fluffy and cute,” Siria defended. She mimed petting a palm sized sheep. Lily Moon laughed. “I was trying to be cute,” Siria added. Lily shook her head against Siria’s arm, but smiled as they walked.  
“It was very cute,” Lily assured her. Siria glanced over her head, then ducked to kiss her.  
“You’re very cute,” Siria whispered. She cleared her throat and rose to almost full height.  
“Personally,” Lily paused, “I think you’re cute, and at your cutest when you stand tall.” she squeezed Siria’s hand and looked to it. “Like when you’re leading class, or next to Ron, or next to anyone else, really…” Lily Moon paused. She followed Siria’s line of sight to see someone drift around the corner.  
“Yeah, thanks,” Siria muttered. “Moon, I’ll see you at breakfast, okay?”  
“Yeah,” she muttered and let go of Siria’s hand. “See you,” she raised her hand to wave.  
Normally, Siria turned to give Lily Moon such a large smile, her eyes disappeared in it. Sometimes she made a show of blowing a huge kiss. Once, Siria looked through a heart made of her hands and laughed. Colin Creevey managed to get a photo, which was pinned to the box Lily Moon kept Siria’s poems and letters in.  
Today, Siria dashed ahead and out of sight. Lily Moon’s fingers folded down, in a silent wave to the empty hall. Was it something she said? Should she have picked a better place? A better line? “At your cutests when you stand tall,” Lily Moon groaned at her own line.  
“In front of my girlfriend,” Siria hissed. She yanked Malfoy’s arm so fiercely he stumbled. Siria ripped him back up. “What if she saw?”  
“Attacking a prefect, Potter-Black?” Malfoy asked cooly.  
“Says the person who threatened me,” Siria said through her clenched teeth. Malfoy tugged his arm from her grasp.  
“For the record, Hermione— the person you called a ‘Mudblood’— has championed for you. You will not be practicing with the others.” Malfoy looked slapped.  
“I’m in?” He asked, his voice soft in tone and alert.  
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Siria scowled. “There are conditions, starting with the fact no one will ever hear you say that word again.”  
“Done, but—”  
“We’ll go over the rest later,” Siria said. “I’ve got to shower and meet Moon,” she shook her head at her watch as she walked away.  
“Merlin’s beard,” Malfoy whispered in awe.

In an empty classroom, Lily Moon and Siria listened to the rain and wind rattle the window. Siria was curved over her desk. She held Moon’s hand and added to her Transfiguration homework. Lily Moon glanced from her Potion’s essay to Siria’s hunched over back, to her drooped head, and sighed.  
“Maybe you could sit up,” Lily Moon strained a smile, “I don’t think it’s good for your back to be like that.”  
“I’m fine,” Siria said at her parchment.  
“I heard about this exercise, where you say two nice things about your partner and one nice thing about yourself,” she said, “do you want to try it?”  
“Sure,” Siria agreed. “You’re ‘cute as mutton’,” Siria grinned, “really though, you’re super considerate. I mean, you wait for me when I run and have practice, and don’t mind our dates are like this thanks to the DA— you don’t mind, right?” Siria glanced up.  
“I like our study dates and little walks,” Lily Moon smiled, and Siria missed the furrow of her brows.  
“You’re absolutely adorable, pocket sized cuteness. You know, you’re actually feminine,” Siria said in a way that implied Siria was not. Lily Moon bit her lips and waited.  
“What about you?” Lily Moon asked. “What’s something you like about yourself?”  
“Suppose I’m okay at Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Siria said with an air of selecting something that she had too. “Oh, your freckles are adorable too,” Siria added. “They fall under being ‘cute as mutton’. I really like them; they’re like adorable little constellations.”  
“Personally, I think you’re very patient,” Lily Moon started. Siria barked out a short laugh. “Sure, you’ve a bit of a temper, but you’re very patient— especially with the DA. Smith gives you so much cheek, but you just snap at him once then help him. You don’t call people out on what they’re doing wrong, you just show them how to do it right or else get as close as you can to tell them quietly. Even though there’s so many people, you give them your time.  
“There’s a lot, but I think you’re really tall,” Moon said, a little louder. Siria’s head curled closer to her page. “I think it’s really nice that you’re so tall,” her eyes blinked furiously to keep her tears in as she watched Siria hunch lower to her desk. “Because you’re so tall, you can grab things for shorter people. I can find you in the Great Hall, or the corridors, especially when you’re next to Ron. You two might be the tallest in our year.”  
“I get it,” Siria snapped.  
“Odd as it sounds, I really like you and I like how much I like you,” Lily Moon confessed. “I didn’t know I could like someone so much and I certainly didn’t think anyone would like me, the messy—”  
“It’s cute when you get ink on you,” Siria interrupted, “it shows how into things you get.”  
“Short,” Lily Moon continued, but was interrupted again.  
“You’re the perfect size.”  
“Fat.”  
“You aren’t fat,” Siria snapped and looked up. “Why’re…” she startled at the tears that fell from Lily Moon’s eyes. “Moon...”  
“I know what I am, Siria. I’m also very happy with who I am. Even if I’m not the type of beauty on a magazine, I like myself, but it’s really hard to with you sometimes. You build me up into something I’m not and take yourself down a peg half the time,” Lily shuddered. Her teeth chattered as she tried to continue.  
“I was trying to be humble,” Siria lied. “Lily, I really like you,” she could feel, with the hands around her throat, what was coming.  
Silent tears screamed down Lily’s face. When she let go of Siria’s hand it let out a howl of heartbreak. Her throat collapsed beneath the weight against it. Words wouldn’t come out. Lily’s beautiful brown eyes, their flecks of sunlight yellow magnified by the tears that remained, screeched closed. The curtain on their relationship fell, in the cold, empty classroom, where Lily Moon walked away.

“You look terrible,” Ron told Siria, as she sat beside them at lunch. Siria shoveled on food until her plate mirrored Ron’s. “Ah, me too,” he smiled at the food. She rubbed at her prickling forehead.  
“Lily Moon dumped me,” Siria said while she shoved food down, not caring what it was.  
“Wha—” Ron sputtered food back onto his plate. “D—” he stopped himself and dropped his voice to barely a whisper, “dumped you?” Siria nodded, but did not look up from her plate. “Well,” Ron glanced around for Hermione, but didn’t see her. He patted Siria on the back. “You could do better, mate. She’s not that pretty.”  
“She’s very pretty,” Siria inhaled another dinner roll. “It’s me,” Siria stabbed at a piece of steak, “I’m not pretty.”  
“No, Siria, you’re… really pretty,” he patted her back.  
“Hitting on your best mate,” Fred shook his head and took the seat across from them. “Merlin—”  
“You look amazing,” George lied. Siria glared over the rim of her classes at him.  
“No,” Fred winced at her, “you look terrible.”  
“Too much time with Myrtle,” George reasoned.  
“I got dumped,” Siria skewered a carrot slice.  
“On Halloween?” Fred asked.  
“That’s not a good laugh,” said George.  
“Halloween?” Siria glanced around, at the massive jack-o-lanterns and dancing bats. She groaned and leaned against Ron. “I have the first one tonight and Lily Moon dumped me, but says she still likes me.”  
“What?” Ron asked. “Then why’d she dump you?”  
“I dunno,” Siria sighed, “because I’m tall or something.”  
“That’s rubbish. If she really liked you, then she wouldn’t’ve dumped you,” said Ron.   
“Yeah?” Siria asked.  
“Are you sure it’s because you’re tall?” George asked. He paused in the middle of taking another roll.  
“Because you’re really not that tall,” said Fred.  
“Taller than either of you,” Siria noted and shoveled more food down.  
“Siria, we’re not tall,” said Fred.  
“Even if we were, even if you were, it wouldn’t matter,” said George.  
“I like being taller than you all,” Ron grinned.  
As Hermione ate lunch early, she was in the Gryffindor common room when the others arrived. Siria sat at Hermione’s feet, swept Crookshanks into her own lap, and put her head in Hermione’s. She recounted the bits she remembered. Hermione stroked Siria’s hair in silence.  
“Obviously, she doesn’t really like Siria anymore, right?” Ron prompted Hermione. She clicked her tongue at him. Siria rubbed her head against Hermione’s knee. The pressure made it ache less.  
“No,” Hermione said. “Lily Moon likes Siria a lot, actually. You two haven’t noticed, but Siria, you used to stand or march around perfectly proud you’re tall, with your head cocked up a little to be even taller some times. It was rather like Sirius, really,” Hermione confessed.  
“Though, I didn’t notice until a couple weeks ago, you don’t anymore,” Hermione explained. “You’ve kind of been leaning, almost, to make yourself smaller. And there’s how you hunch over your desk these days, when you used to sit up and only sit up taller. I wrote to Chloe about what to do, but haven’t gotten a reply yet.”  
“I haven’t been ‘making myself smaller’,” Siria told Hermione. She sat up and glared at Hermione.  
“You have felt shorter lately,” Ron squinted at Siria.  
“Think of how Lily must feel right now. She’s worried you won’t get it and you’ll think it’s because you’re tall, not because of how you feel about being tall. She’ll be broken hearted for breaking things off. She’ll probably even be furious with herself for ending it.”  
“No, she won’t,” said Ron. “No one could be all that— they’d explode.” (B5, 459)  
“Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all do,” Hermione snapped (B5, 459).  
“Well…” Siria clicked her tongue. She got up to sit in the armchair beside Ron. From there, she had a perfect view of Fred and George showing off their Skiving Snackboxes: Fainting Fancies, Fever Fudge, Nosebleed Nougats, and Puking Pastilles. It twisted Siria’s stomach. Cassius and she funded the twins, but Colin’s pale, bloody face swept over her each time one of the twins showed off the Nosebleed Nougat. [B5, 368]  
“If it helps, Diggory got dumped,” Ron said and patted Siria’s shoulder. “If someone that handsome can get dumped fifty times by the same girl, you’ll be fine.”  
“Maybe I’ll date Diggory,” Siria chuckled.  
“He is taller,” Ron grinned and waved an arm over his head. “You know, I think I got a Chocolate Frog leftover, from Sirius’s last care package, if you want it?”  
“You’d give me your last Chocolate Frog?” Siria asked. Ron shrugged and rose, but Siria took his arm and pulled him back into his chair. “Really, I think I’ll be okay.”  
“You sure?” Ron asked. He was leaned forward, ready to bolt up the stairs. Siria nodded.  
“Yeah. Thanks, mate.”


	21. The Lion and the Serpent

**The Lion and the Serpent**   


Myrtle sat on a plain, wooden chair. Her translucent eyes followed Siria, as she paced around the empty room. It was from the Hogsmeade visit, though it was now invisible and tucked in Moaning Myrtle’s stall. Siria rubbed at her eyes again. She stripped her makeup off and felt bare. Her Moony & Padfoot jacket was her only protection.  
A pale, pointed face poked into the room. Siria stopped pacing to stare. Malfoy gave an awkward smile as he stepped into the trunk. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and snuck a glance at Siria.  
“So, where’s everyone else?” Draco Malfoy asked. “Am I really too dangerous for the kiddies?” He eyed Myrtle’s solitary chair that stood above Siria’s bag.  
“It’s one of the conditions,” Siria leaned against a wall. “You’ll learn the same things as them, but not with them.”  
“Not until we can trust you,” Siria thought. She tried to breathe, but shuddered.  
“If I’m so unbearable, why isn’t someone else here?” Malfoy asked. Irritation clung to his voice. He was irritated? Siria shook her head. Fury boiled inside her. Siria slapped her hand against the wall. It stung, but not at much as her eyes or the pain in her head.  
“Look,” Siria said as she turned and walked toward him. “I’ll teach you once a week, Quidditch permitting, for an hour, and only what I’ve taught or am teaching them.” She opened her bag and pulled out the list of names for Dumbledore’s Army. Another sheet of parchment was tapped over the names. “You’ll sign this, in Invisible Ink, and agree to tell no one about this.” She extended him the parchment, a quill, and ink bottle.  
“Why is my signature invisible?” Malfoy asked. Siria tilted her head and looked down at him. “Fair enough,” he said and accepted the parchment, “don’t want my participation known either. What’re your other conditions?”  
“Aside from not using that word, no more ‘blood-traitor’ or other insults to the Weasleys,” Siria sighed. Her shoulders ached.  
“Then you can’t be sarcastic with me— here, at least,” he said. She arched an eyebrow.  
“I’ll try and, on the condition I fail, will fix it,” Siria gritted her teeth. The quill hovered over the bottom of the page.  
“There is one more thing,” Malfoy confessed, “I thought you were really going to prefer I tell Umbridge, so—”  
“You told—”  
“I didn’t—” and he rose up to just shorter than her. “I didn’t tell her and I won’t tell her,” Malfoy leaned and signed the parchment. His eyes were wide and he panted for air. “I won’t tell her, but, you have to understand.”  
“Wait,” Siria held up a finger. She marched up, closed the lid, and sat down on the stairs. “I, that is, if you, I might,” Siria pressed her fist to her mouth. “I am trying to be calm, but,” she paused to shout, “it’s going very poorly today— it’s been a bad day.” Siria walked back into her corner, away from the stairs. “Actually,” she pointed to the chair, “could I use that?” Myrtle lifted off it. Siria put her things down and side stepped away from the chair. “Good,” Siria lifted it a few inches and gave a light tap against the floor. “Yes. That’ll break nicely, okay,” she nodded.  
“You said you weren’t going to let me in, so I was miffed, and may or may not have written asongaboutWeaslybeingalousyKeeper,” Malfoy half coughed over the last bit in his rush to get it out.  
“You did more than write it, didn’t you?” Siria asked.  
“Pansy’s teaching everyone,” his voice was so quiet she almost felt his remorse. Siria paused. Silence hung in the air. Then she rose the chair and slammed it into the ground. She rose it again, high above her head, but saw Myrtle’s face poking through the floor where Siria aimed the chair.  
“You’re stronger than your anger,” Myrtle mouthed at Siria. “It may be a part of you, but it does not define you.” She rose through the floor, her arms raised at her chest, open to Siria. “Your choices do, and you don’t have to do this anymore,” Myrtle whispered. Siria swallowed and put the chair down. It clattered, unable to stand on the two legs that remained.   
“For Quidditch?” Siria asked. She focused on Myrtle, if she looked at Malfoy, she might beat him with a chair leg.  
“Yes.” Malfoy’s voice was level, almost calm. At least he was honest.  
“For the match?”  
“Yes.”  
“Okay,” Siria massaged the bridge of her nose. “Expelliarmus.”  
“What?” Malfoy asked and straightened up.  
“The first spell I taught them was the Disarming Charm,” Siria explained.  
“Then, that’s where we’ll start?” He asked.  
“Yeah,” she was too tired to be surprised he didn’t protest. She just wanted to crawl into Hermione’s bed and cry. She just wanted to cry. Today was better off over before something else happened.

It was all she wanted. The hunger inside her would not subside until it was hers. More than the girl, she craved it. Today, the plain, black door at the end of the corridor taunted her again. How did she make it open? What could she do? Who could she use?  
Siria Potter-Black clattered the floor of her dorm. Hermione held her comforter wrapped around her arm, but let go when Siria sat up, still on the blanket. “You’re impossible,” Hermione whispered. “Come on,” she beckoned Siria out and into the common room.  
Fred and George paced the common room. They perked up at Hermione’s reentry. George gave a small, tired smile at Siria.  
“Finally,” said Fred.  
“Thought you were murdered,” George joked.  
“I’s,” Siria squinted at her watch in the dark, “i’s night time.”  
“Oh, is it?” Fred asked.  
“Hadn’t noticed,” yawned George. He clapped a black box into Siria’s hand. “You’ll know what to do,” he nodded.  
“Hand it to him with all the confidence you carry,” Fred yawned.  
“Or he won’t trust it,” George added.  
“Honestly,” Fred yawned and rubbed at his eyes. “Hermione, how do you do it?”  
“I told you,” Hermione said, “I only use it every other day.”  
“We didn’t have every other day,” said George.  
“We barely finished as it is,” said Fred.  
“Wha’s happening?” Siria yawned. She fumbled with the black box until it opened. Two neon yellow pieces of stretchy flesh like material peered up at her. “Oh!” She gasped as realization shocked her awake. “You got them to work?” Siria asked as she stuffed the earplugs in. “Say something,” she told them. Siria smiled around the room. “I can’t tell if you’re actually saying something and they work, or if you’re just mouthing at me,” she confessed and pulled them out. “Perfect!” Siria smiled at the yellow earplugs as she dropped them back into the box.  
Moments after Siria fell back to sleep, Hermione woke her again. Siria jerked the comforter and buried herself back under. Hermione groaned as she tugged at the blanket. She whacked Siria on the hip.  
“You’ll never get her out like that,” Parvati tsked. She clicked Siria’s jewelry box open. “You know, Lavender, I think we can head to breakfast. Siria’s got enough hair clips one of them should be able to hold that tangle.”  
“Fine!” Siria threw the blanket off and hopped out of bed. She shivered at the cold. Siria scrunched up her nose. “Please help me.” Parvati smiled and picked up a hair brush and comb.  
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Parvati asked.  
“No,” Siria grumbled. As Parvati sat at Siria’s desk chair, Siria sat on the floor before her.  
“You better win though,” Parvati told her. “I’m not doing your hair for free.”  
“I ought to cut it off,” Siria confessed.  
“No!” Lavender cried. “It’s beautiful, in its own messy little way.” Siria sighed, but silenced the thoughts of chopping it off.  
Ron was pale as Myrtle in the common room. Neville stood at his side, eyeing anyone that came close with uncharacteristic suspicion. Colin and Dennis made a small fence to stop people approaching Ron.  
Romilda Vane sat with her two friends, one of who Siria only knew as Jessica Thompson’s younger sister. When Siria approached Ron and Neville, Romilda leapt to her feet and stood in Siria’s path. She beamed up at Siria with a haughty smile.  
“Good luck in today’s match,” Romilda told Siria. “When you win, I’d be happy to reward you with a date,” and she bit her lip. Siria clenched her jaw and forced a smile.  
“Winning is its own reward,” Siria said. She took a step forward, but Romilda didn’t move. Siria glared down at her. Hermione dragged Siria around by her arm. Colin hugged Siria. Around her side, he stuck his tongue out at Romilda before they headed to the Great Hall.  
“Mate,” Siria told Ron with an arm slung around him, “you ought to wear these when we play— at breakfast too,” she told him. “If you can just focus and get in your own head, you’ll do great.” Siria handed him the yellow ear plugs. Ron’s face drained. “Don’t be like that,” Siria rubbed his arm. “You’re really good. You just have to focus, really.”  
“Do you think that’s wise?” Hermione asked once Ron put the ear plugs in. “I thought that was how Malfoy cornered you?”  
“That wouldn’t be the same Malfoy you said I should let join the DA, would it?” Siria asked. Hermione let go of Siria’s arm and turned away. She refused to face Siria at all through breakfast, which was cut short by the fact Ron wouldn’t eat.  
Luna Lovegood came up to them as Ron and Siria got to their feet. On her dirty blonde hair, was a life size lion’s head as a hat. “I’m supporting Gryffindor,” she told them. Siria nodded, wide-eyed at the hat. Luna tapped it with her wand. The lion gave an uncomfortably realistic roar that summoned the eyes of many throughout the Hall. “Good, isn’t it?” Luna said at their shocked expressions. [B5, 403]  
“Brilliant!” Ron shouted, unable to hear his own voice.  
“I wanted to have it eating a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn’t time. Anyway, good luck, Ronald!” Luna smiled (B5, 403).  
With her arm wrapped as tight as she could get it around his, Siria marched Ron out the Great Hall. down to the stadium and into the locker rooms. She wrestled him into his Quidditch robes before she put on her own. Then sat beside him, stomach turning, and hoped it would be enough. Angelina told them Crabbe and Goyle were the new Slytherin Beaters and, to Siria’s surprise, that Montague replaced Warrington with Bradshaw. [B5, 405]  
Both teams took the field to cheers from all sides and singing from the Slytherins. Somewhere in the stands, sat Lily Moon. Siria’s heart plummeted at the thought. She tried to stand a little taller, but immediately slouched back down. Right now, she didn’t have the heart for it. [B5, 405]  
Montague tried to crush Angelina’s hand when they shook, but she kept her face in a firm glare. Each of the Slytherin players had a silver, crown-shaped badge that read “Weasley is Our King.” Siria ignored the knots in her stomach. Malfoy brushed his Quidditch robes to hide the badge when he caught Siria’s glare on it. Madam Hooch blew her whistle. Everyone kicked off. Siria left her thoughts on the ground. What mattered now was the Snitch. [B5, 404-406]  
“Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I’ve been saying it for years but she still won’t go out with me—” Lee Jordan announced (B5, 406). Siria bit back a smile as she circled around the field. She should have asked Fred and George for a second pair of ear plugs.  
“Weasley cannot save a thing,  
He cannot block a single ring,  
That’s why Slytherins all sing:  
Weasley is our King.” (B5, 407)  
“About the song,” Malfoy started as he approached Siria, high above any listening ear.  
“Stop,” Siria told him. She scanned the field for the Snitch. “It’s taking all my willpower to not kick you off your broom.”  
“I told you about it, and Weasley’s doing fine. He blocked a goal, didn’t he?” Malfoy asked. Siria gritted her teeth.  
“Get lost, Malfoy,” Siria snapped.  
“Are we still on for tomorrow evening?” he asked. Siria glared at him, but glaring didn’t have its usual feeling. It used to be a mutual glare, like their mutual loathing, which would sometimes become mutual uncertainty about if they could be friends or why they ever tried. Whatever it was, it wasn’t mutual anymore.  
“Johnson scores! Forty-Thirty Slytherin,” Lee Jordan announced. Siria dropped into a dive. Now was not the time to argue with Malfoy. She launched herself so close to the ground, she could have grazed it with her feet as she flew. “Snitch, snitch, snitch,” Siria repeated as she slid out of the way of a Bludger. It wasn’t in the grass, but wasn’t in Malfoy’s line of sight either.  
“Bradshaw, hit by a solid Bludger from Fred or George, Bell with the Quaffle,” Lee Jordan narrated. Luna’s hat roared over the cheers at “Forty-Forty!” A smile broke over Siria’s face when she turned to the hat, but fell immediately as she sped off before seeing it. Flat as she could be, Siria rested on her broom and rocketed toward the glittering, flittering orb of gold.  
As the Snitch rose, Siria arched herself. Malfoy was closer. His arm stretched out for it, but he was too far. She gasped and stretched out her own, as they neared it and each other. The Snitch flew toward the ground, Siria flipped herself upside down, yanking her broom, and dove after it. Malfoy just behind her.  
They knocked away the others arm. Siria took her other hand off her broom. Malfoy reached to knock both her arms. She nudged his shoulder with her own, tilting them both to the right as they dove to the ground.  
“Get off,” Malfoy spat between his teeth. Siria clenched her jaw. She squeezed her legs tighter around the broom that slipped. One hand kept his away and her other— Luna’s lion let out another roar. “Potter-Black with the Snitch!” Lee Jordan called. “Gryffindor wins, One Hundred Ninety to Forty!” Siria beamed at the small, golden orb that fought against her grasp.  
WHAM!

It ached. Not how her scar stung. Like when… she couldn’t quite recall. She was small. Someone yelled. Her headached, like it did now.  
In the all too familiar Hospital Wing, Siria opened her eyes. She winced when she sat up. Siria reached to run her fingers through her hair, but found bandages. Her head was warm.  
“Madam Pomfrey?” Siria called. From the office, she heard a muffled reply. Faint candlelight paled against the last bits of sun. “How long have I been out?” Siria asked when Madam Pomfrey approached.  
“Just a few hours, dear,” Madam Pomfrey sighed. She unraveled the bandages around Siria’s head. “Bludger to the back of the head— honestly, as if there aren’t enough injuries without Quidditch.”  
“It still hurts,” Siria said.  
“Does it hurt or your scar?”  
“Both.”  
“Hm,” Madam Pomfrey grazed the back of Siria’s head with a finger. “I’d like to keep you overnight, if that’s the case,” her lips pressed together into a thin line at Siria’s expression. “Potter-Black, if it still hurts in the morning, come back in to see me.” She handed Siria a palm sized container.  
“This is for your scar and only for your scar,” Madam Pomfrey said. “It should numb the pain a little.” She smoothed Siria’s sheets. “Though, it’s not a permanent solution, and you should only use a little when it’s bad. Just a dab should do, like with your balm.”  
“Thank you, really,” Siria smiled at her and she returned it. “I’ll only use it when it’s bad. What is it?”  
“A modified numbing solution. It’s similar to what we use for teething and you gave me the idea,” Madam Pomfrey said.  
“Thank you, again,” Siria said and slid out of the bed. “Um,” she eyed the change of clothes and, more notable, the lack of broom.  
“Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley have your things— your broom is fine, though even they were more worried about you,” Madam Pomfrey said.  
“Thanks, again,” Siria grumbled. She slid the curtains to change.  
“It’d give everyone a piece of mind if you didn’t get injured so often,” she tsked.  
“I’m not getting hit by Bludgers on purpose,” Siria sighed as she pulled her jacket on.  
“Enjoy dinner, Potter-Black. If you need a Draught of Dreamless Sleep, you know where to find me.”  
“Why?” She pulled her messy hair out of the jacket.  
“You were crying in your sleep, dear. Haven’t seen you do that since we had dementors around.”  
“Like, crying out and grumbling?” Siria asked. If her nightmares of the corridor had gotten loud enough to hear in the office, Hermione would never drop them.  
“Tears, dear. Perfectly normal to cry, though.”


	22. Hagrid’s Tale

**Hagrid’s Tale**   


Lively as ever after a win, the Gryffindor common room was a storm of cheers at Siria’s entry. Hermione clung to Siria’s arm, as though someone might attack Siria if she let go. She plowed through the crowd of people patting Siria’s back and dragged her to a far wall.  
Ron’s head was drapped so low, his chin looked sewn to his shirt. He held the neck of his butterbeer bottle down at his side. Some trickled out of the bottle and onto the carpet. His feet inched forward, as he slid ever so slowly, lower on the wall.  
“You weren’t kidding,” Siria whispered to Hermione. “Why don’t you go grab two butterbeers? I’ve got this,” and Siria rose, to her full height. She felt the tension in her shoulders loosen with the release of their hunched position for her tall stance, her Sirius-like stance. Siria kicked a foot against the wall, as she rested her back on it. She nudged Ron with her shoulder.  
“Heard you carried me to the Wing,” Siria smirked. “That’s pretty damn impressive— and after you blocked those two goals by Bradshaw and Montague,” she whistled.  
“Two of six,” Ron grumbled. “Angelina won’t let me resign though.”  
“Resign? Mate,” Siria headbunted the side of his. He grunted. “How do you expect to ever get a girl like that?”  
“What’re you talking about?”  
“People don’t play Quidditch for the sport, they play for the game,” and Siria nodded to the sea of people partying up before them.  
“No one wants me, I’m lousy,” he sighed. Siria ran a hand through her mane of hair.  
Hermione smiled and handed Siria a butterbeer. She eyed Ron, but said nothing. Instead, she took Siria’s other side and leaned on her arm. “Any luck?” Hermione whispered. Siria placed her index and thumb close to each other.  
“Tell you what,” Siria said to Ron, “pick any one and I’ll go out with them—” her eyes widened at Hermione’s dropped jaw. “Wheres as you just need to get any girl to go out with you. You get a girl to say ‘yes’, even if I get the person you pick, you win and I carry your bag the rest of the year. If I get the person of your pick to agree and you don’t get anyone, I get to burn your clothes and you have to wear whatever Chloe sends.”  
“All year?” Ron asked. “It’s only November.”  
“What do you want then? Your mum just got you an owl.”  
“I just don’t know if you can carry my bag that long.”  
“You think you’ll win?” Siria asked with a cocky smirk. “Pick away, Weasley.”  
Ron rose up. He tilted his head, to appear even taller than Siria. Ron stuck out his hand. Siria shook it. He nodded and leaned back against the wall. His butterbeer lifted to his chest as he leaned his head toward Siria’s.  
“What are you doing?” Hermione asked in a quiet hiss. Siria brushed over her lips, a single finger waived in a silent shush. Ron pointed to a few different people with “What about them?” and to each, Siria replied, “whoever you want.” A smile started to creep over his face.  
“Fred and George,” Ron said. Siria puckered her lips like she bit something bitter. She lowered her butterbeer.  
“You do realise they’re two people,” she said.  
“Either,” Ron said with a haughty grin.  
“Oh, you think you won because you picked a sibling? Let’s go,” Siria raised her watch. Hermione rolled her eyes. “One hour— go,” she winked at him and headed straight for the twins.  
She arched an eyebrow at Ron as she sat down on George’s armrest. “Wanna help Ron get some swagger?” Siria whispered with a thin smirk.  
“Potter-Black, what are you planning?” George asked with a smirk that mirrored hers. She nodded to his lap.  
“May I?” She asked. George raised his arms. Siria slid onto him. She smirked over the top of the chair at Ron, who went pale. “Let’s get him a girlfriend.”  
“Who do you have in mind?” George asked.  
“Preferably someone about to take their N.E.W.T.s or O.W.L.s, so they’ll have time to do a date or two before exams and fall apart,” Siria said. He straightened up, but kept an arm on the armrest and the other hanging off.  
“Does Ronald know what you’re planning?” George asked. “Does Hermione?”  
“Hermione, more or less, Ron thinks I’m trying to get you to go on a date with me— we made a bet,” Siria confessed. George took a sip of his butterbeer.  
“A bet, you wound me, my lady,” George laughed.  
“You in or not? Because it’s going to be very awkward if I have to ask to sit in Fred’s lap after yours.” She took a drink at the look on his face. “It was ‘Fred or George’.”  
“And you picked me? Should I be flattered or insulted?”  
“Neither. Fred’s been eyeing Yang all week. Though I think she likes Powell, I’m not about to sink his ship.”  
“Olive Foster and Nancy Hughes, or anyone in your year, and you’d know them better,” George nodded to a group of seventh year girls. Siria placed her head inches from his and followed his eyes. “The two brunettes. Foster, with the freckles, just got dumped.”  
“Wave her over for me?”  
“For our investors, anything,” George smiled.

So close their noses brushed against each other, Ron danced in Siria’s face. He flailed his arms in the air. “Olive Foster— Olive Foster,” he chanted in a much brighter mood than Siria had seen him in ages. “We’re meeting in the library for a date that’s more date than study,” and Ron scrunched up his face in a series kisses.  
“This has been a brilliant show, but, as I’ve been trying to tell you— Hagrid is back!” Hermione snapped.  
“What?” Ron and Siria asked. Hermione pointed at the window without letting her glare leave them. They peered out to see soft orange light slipping through the curtains of Hagrid’s hut.  
“Let’s go,” Siria said.  
“Umbridge is there,” Hermione said. “We can visit tomorrow.”  
“You can visit tomorrow, I’m going tonight,” Siria said.  
“Same,” Ron agreed. “Umbridge can’t be there forever. I’ll watch while you get the Cloak,” he added as he sat down beside the window.  
Hermione chased after Siria up the stairs. Her voice was a constant hiss. “Why can’t you wait until the morning? You’ve waited all summer and the last two months—” Hermione said.  
“It’s because I waited so long,” Siria shook her head as she pushed the door to their dorm open. “He missed my game, and Hagrid’s never missed a game before.” She knelt beside her trunk and rummaged for the cloak.  
“Oh, yes. Well, if he missed Quidditch,” Hermione hissed, the sarcasm heavy in her voice while she accepted the winter jacket from Siria. “Siria, I’ll tell Sirius!” Hermione added on Siria’s heels as she headed down the stairs.  
“Tell him,” Siria pulled the compact from her pocket and tossed it to Hermione. She clapped her hands around the mirror, surprised at her own catch. Hermione had to jump down every few stairs to keep up with Siria, who easily skipped three at her pace.  
“Umbridge just left,” Ron said when Hermione and Siria entered the common room. “Are you coming after all?” Ron asked.  
“Well,” Hermione sighed and handed the mirror back to Siria. “Yes. I don’t want to hear second hand,” she pulled the jacket on. Siria passed Ron a sweater from under arm. Hermione tapped the top of her head with her wand and disappeared from sight. They heard her sigh.  
“Don’t really need the Cloak, if you’re coming along,” Ron told Hermione.  
“Fine,” Hermione said. Ron vanished, then Siria. She hung the Cloak around her invisible shoulders.  
The trio linked hands and snuck out of the castle, across the grounds, and knocked of the door of Hagrid’s hut. Hagrid opened the door. “Who’s there?” He asked. Beneath the bush of black hair and his thick beard, they made out cuts and bruises. A bloody, green-tinged steak, larger than a car tire was pressed to his eye (B5, 422).  
“It’s us,” Siria whispered. He chuckled at the general area of her voice. [B5, 422]  
“Shoulda known you lot would come around,” he said as he stepped to the side to let them in. Hagrid closed the door behind them. “What’re yer doin’ up so late?”  
“We won today’s match,” Siria said, as she rummaged through her jacket pockets. Hermione revealed herself first, then Ron as he sat beside her, then Siria who sat last.  
“Match? Blimey! But o’ course you won,” he grinned at Siria as he put a kettle over the fire.  
“We’ll tell you all about it, if you tell us where you’ve been,” Ron wagered. [B5, 422]  
“Can’t,” said Hagrid, “be more than me job’s worth.”  
“No luck with the giants?” Hermione asked. Siria locked eyes with her in a shared moment of mischievousness.  
“Who said anythin’ ‘bout giants?” Hagrid asked, but he turned away.  
“You and Madame Maxime went on a mission for Dumbledore, and you look like you’ve been beaten to near death,” Siria told him. She placed a small, plastic container, which looked like it contained lotion, on the table. “Try that on the cuts.”  
“I’ll be fine. I got a dragon steak,” he said and gestured to the slab of meat on his eye.  
“About the giants,” Ron reminded him that they had not forgotten.   
“I always said you kids know more than you ought.”  
“It’s not difficult to figure out,” said Hermione. Hagrid shook his head and poured the boiling water into mugs with tea bags. He handed them out. [B5, 422-423]  
“Alright,” Hagrid sighed as Fang rested his head on Siria’s knee. “It isn’t as excitin’ as yer win today, I’d bet, but okay.” Hagrid explained that he and Madame Maxime left at the end of term. They wandered around France until they lost the Ministry Wizard tailing them, then hiked through to where the giants were. [B5, 424-426]  
He told them how the pair waited the first night, then brought a gift down to the giant chief, the Gurg. They presented him with a branch of Gubraithian fire, everlasting fire. The next day, they came with a goblin-made battle helmet. When they explained Dumbledore sent them, the Gurg seemed interested, as did the giants who spoke any English. [B5, 426-429]  
However, that night, fighting broke out and a new Gurg beheaded the first. Hagrid and Madame Maxime went down to talk with the new Gurg, but he was not as interested as the first. The Gurg hung Hagrid upside down, which caused Madame Maxime to use magic to make them release Hagrid. As she used magic, they had to flee. [B5, 429-431]  
“How come it’s taken you so long to get home if you were only there for three days?” Hermione asked (B5, 431).  
“We didn’ leave after three days!” said Hagrid (B5, 431). He told them how he and Madame Maxime went through the caves and tried to persuade other giants to join. Death Eaters arrived and convinced the new Gurg to join Voldemort. Madame Maxime and Hagrid continued to try the caves for giants, worried they may run into the Death Eaters. A few seemed interested, until the new Gurg raided the caves and none of the giants wanted anything to do with Hagrid or Madame Maxime anymore. [B5, 431-433]  
“But Madame Maxime got back at the start of term,” Siria said. “Why’ve you been gone so much longer?”  
“Were you…” Hermione paused. She eyed Siria as though about to say something that may offend. “Were you looking for your mother?”  
“Blimey, no,” Hagrid shook his head. “Did hear she passed, though, years ago.”  
“Oh, I’m— I’m so sorry,” Hermione said (B5, 434). Siria put her hand on Hagrid’s.  
“Don’ yer worry ‘bout that,” he said and patted Siria’s hand. “Not much o’ a great mother.” [B5, 433-434]  
“‘Nough about me though,” Hagrid told them and resumed drinking his tea. “Wha’s been on ‘ere? That Umbridge woman know ‘ow to teach?” Hermione scoffed. Ron sniggered. Siria let out a bark of laughter.  
“Merlin, no,” Siria said. “The Ministry thinks Dumbledore’s raising an army, so they don’t want us learning anything that could be used against them.”  
“Yer ain’t learnin’ how to defend yerselves” Hagrid asked.  
“Umbridge isn’t teaching us at all,” Hermione said with a look to Ron and Siria.  
“We’re not worried,” Ron said. Siria raised her mug to her mouth, to hide her smirk.  
“‘Suppose with Dumbledore and ‘ere you don’ ‘ave to, but once yer’ out there,” Hagrid shook his head. He placed the green steak on the table and looked at the small container Siria put down earlier.  
“Siria, ‘ow’s this mix with dragon blood? Do yer know?” Hagrid asked. He opened it up and examined the chartreuse paste.  
“I don’t know,” Siria confessed. “Dragon blood’s really expensive, so I didn’t use any—”  
“Yer brewed it yerself?” Hagrid grinned. He rubbed his face on his sleeve, to wipe away some of the blood.  
“Do you want a hand?” Siria asked as she reached for the container. Hagrid chuckled.  
“I got i’ alright,” he said. Hagrid dabbed the paste along the cuts. “What balm is it?”  
“Oh,” Siria hunched in her chair. She muttered something. Hagrid asked again.  
“It doesn’t have a name,” Hermione said. “Siria made it.”  
The balm slid down Hagrid’s palm, but he caught it and smacked it on the table. He leaned toward Siria, a wide smile. “Yer makin’ Potions o’ yer own! Siria, tha’s brilliant,” Hagrid slammed Siria into the table as he tried to pat her back. “Sorry, Siria.”  
“Fine,” she weazed. “It’s nothing special.”  
“Nothin’ special? Nothin’ special? It’s bleedin’ brilliant,” he said. “Jus’ like yer mum. She ‘ad such a knack fer Potions. Blimey,” Hagrid swept the balm backup and beamed at it.  
“Madam Pomfrey did most of it and Cassius helped a lot,” Siria tried to defend.  
“Not that much,” said Ron. “Cassius only referred her to other Potions and Madam Pomfrey just watched!” Siria turned her face to the table. She pulled a hand to her forehead, to cover her blushing face.  
“Yer ought to be proud,” Hagrid told her. “I’s workin’ brilliantly. Can I keep it?” Siria nodded. “Wha’s with yer, Siria? Yer ought to be proud— yer ought to send it to Saint Mungo’s.”  
“It’s mostly just a modified Scar Removal Solution,” she grumbled. “Nothing to write home about.”  
“Don’t mind her,” Hermione snapped. “She’s still down about the break up.”  
“Break up?” Hagrid asked.  
“It’s over,” Siria hissed.  
“Lily Moon and Siria,” Ron started. Siria socked his arm.  
“Dated until a week ago,” Hermione finished. Siria glared at her.  
“Datin’, Siria, ‘ave yer, er…” Hagrid paused.  
“I told Sirius and Remus… and Mrs. Weasley,” Siria sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”  
“But that’s why she’s so down,” Hermione whispered to Hagrid. “She’s taking it hard.” Siria focused on the table. The old, worn, scratched up table.  
Lily Moon had not visited either practice this week. Instead, Siria of seeing smiling, happy, adorable Lily Moon, Siria saw Draco Bleeding Malfoy. “Did you even like her as much as she liked you?” Malfoy asked in their Thursday practice. “Sure, you fancied her, but the stares she gave you.” Siria replied with “of course!” without thinking, but, how could she measure how much they liked each other?   
After she shouted at Malfoy over the Weasley is Our King song, she focused on that. Focused on helping the twins, on the balm, on… Siria’s stomach flipped. Someone scraped it out of her and put it on the table. As in the open as her heart.  
“Hagrid, what do you know about independent study classes?” Siria asked, unaware of the hushed conversation she interrupted.  
“Inderpenten’ study?” Hagrid asked. “Never did ‘em meself, but yer can ask Professor Chaudhary. ‘E mostly teaches them N.E.W.T. level. Anyway, i’s late and yer best be getting on,” he rose up and started to usher them out.  
“Hagrid,” Hermione hissed. “Well, I’ll be back tomorrow!” She said as he hurried them out. Hermione disappeared, then Ron, then Siria, who still draped the Cloak around her shoulders.  
“What are you coming back for?” Siria asked as they trudged through the snow, back to the castle.  
“I need to know what lessons he’s got planned,” Hermione said. Beneath the snow crunching, Siria could make out the sway of Hermione’s hair as she shook her head.  
“Can’t be anything too bad, with Sirius keeping an eye on it,” Ron said. Hermione gave a short laugh, which said she did not believe it at all.  
“I’ll need your mirror,” Hermione told Siria. “I’m going to double team it with Sirius. He’ll guilt Hagrid about the hippogriff.”  
“Woah!” Siria said, “Madam Pomfrey fixed me up fine— it was Malfoy’s fault anyway.” Siria had to drop it when they entered the castle, until they returned to the common room.  
“The same Malfoy you’re making me give private lessons to,” Siria snapped the moment the Fat Lady’s portrait closed behind them. Hermione reappeared, then Ron, then Siria. “Who wrote Weasley is Our King, who made the ‘Siria Pooper’ buttons, who said he hoped you’d die—”  
“That’s enough!” Hermione snapped back. She stood right before Siria, their toes touching. “People change— Dudley changed, you’ve changed—”  
“He’s—”  
“Siria Jessica Potter-Black.”  
“Hermione Jean Granger! Using my full name means nothing.”  
“He was going to rat us out to Umbridge,” Ron said.  
“Stay out of it!” Hermione and Siria snapped. Ron raised his hands in air.  
“If you don’t want to teach him, then I will,” Hermione said. “We’re not losing the DA to him.”  
“You left me in the hands of a lunatic, but I wouldn’t make you,” Siria said.  
“You just don’t like having to see him change,” Hermione said. “It’s so much easier for you to say Malfoy’s bad and that’s all he’ll ever be— spoiled son of a Death Eater, but we can’t write someone off just because of how we see them.”  
“How we— how we see them? Hermione, that’s how everyone sees him!”  
“And everyone saw me as a bossy know-it-all until the troll!” Hermione cried.  
Like her foot missed a step, Siria’s heart skipped. Her mind ticked like a broken clock, repeating the last sentence. She wanted to look to Ron, to ask for help, but couldn’t look away from Hermione. Hermione who never seemed so small as when she took the three steps away from Siria. Hermione who cradled herself in her arms and looked to the floor.  
“‘Mione, you are a bossy know-it-all, and I’d’ve died without you being such,” Siria whispered into the dark common room. Only the faintest slivers of light broke in from the windows. Their three faces were cast in shadows.  
“Well, you’re tall,” Hermione sniffed. Her hand brushed up to her face. Though Siria couldn’t see, she heard the rub of Hermione’s gloves against her cheeks.  
“Time I ought to finally be proud of it again,” Siria said. “I won’t complain about Malfoy anymore.”  
“You can complain to me,” Ron whispered. Three chuckles rang and seemed so loud in the otherwise empty room.


	23. Sunday Applications

**Sunday Applications**   


Sunday morning, Hermione plowed down to Hagrid’s cabin first thing (B5, 441). Siria enjoyed breakfast with Ron, before going to Myrtle’s bathroom. She opened the bench to laughter that stopped immediately. Siria peered in, but only saw Malfoy and Myrtle. Myrtle smiled at Siria.  
“Is it too late to add another contingency?” Siria asked as she closed the lid.  
“It depends on what it is,” Malfoy told her. Siria sighed.  
“Would you not insult Hagrid during his lessons?” she asked. She put her bag on the floor and rummaged through, so she had an excuse to not face him.  
“Could we take a your sarcasm policy?” He asked. “I’ll try not to? No public apologizes though.” She clicked her tongue, but nodded.  
“What kind of skeleton is that?” Malfoy asked. Siria finished enlarging the humanoid skeleton.  
“It’s a long story,” Siria said. “We’re continuing Healing today, but I don’t know if I’m good enough at dislocating and breaking to give you a good target for practice.”  
“You considered practicing on yourself?” Malfoy asked, his tone high with concern. “I wouldn’t in a thousand years break my nose or something. How did you even get it in?”  
“I know a guy,” Siria allowed herself a small smile. She pointed her wand at the ankle of the skeleton. There was a small crack and the bones shifted. “Okay, you can use Ferula, to bind it, I’ve occasional luck with Episkey, or you can use Brackium Emendo, if you’re feeling bold,” Siria told him. He raised his wand and took a step closer to the body. Malfoy lowered his wand.  
“What if I make it worse?” He asked.  
“Then I’ll fix it,” she told him. “You only have an hour, get repairing.”  
“Did you get a new girlfriend— boyfriend… person?” Malfoy asked as Siria slid the shrunken down skeleton into her bag.  
“What?” She asked in reply.  
“You’re just in a better mood,” he noted. “I get the half— that Hagrid is back, but is that all it takes to make you happy?”  
“What could be better than knowing your loved ones are safe?” Siria asked.  
“Oh? Oh, no,” he shook his head at her glare. “I just meant that, if I’d known you didn’t know, I could have told you.”  
“How could you know?”  
“I hear things,” Malfoy looked to the wall of the room. “So, I knew he hadn’t gotten caught by…” Siria raised her head in a small nod.  
Just after she decided to be less harsh, he reminded her why she had been. Her hands wrung her bag’s strap. “One day you’ll see that people are more than their parents,” was what she told him. Didn’t she believe it?  
“What made you ask for my help?” Siria asked. It was something she told herself she wouldn’t. She reasoned it was his business, but now. Now she needed to know. What made proud, privileged Draco Malfoy scared enough to ask her for help?  
“Warrington’s a pureblood too, in Slytherin… and you…” Malfoy said.  
“I’m a half-blood and—” Siria started, but stopped as Malfoy shook his head. His silver eyes were focused on the floor.  
“You…” he paused again and sighed. Malfoy raised his head and looked her in the eyes. “You don’t flinch,” he said as he closed the distance between them. “You strut around, as proud as I used to be,” he told her, right on her toes.  
“Growing up, I was raised to think I’m better because I’m a wizard, then better than wizards because I’m a pureblood, then better than that because I’m not only ‘pureblood’, I’m a Malfoy,” he confessed to her. “When I got on the train and learned the girl I met in robe shop, who, at the time I thought was in awe of me, was Siria Potter-Black, I thought I’d rule the school better than my father.  
“You accepted my hand to stop a fight, got us talking about Quidditch before I knew what was happening…” he closed his silver eyes, as though he saw their eleven year old selves. “I thought I’d be greater than my parents, but you were sorted into Gryffindor,” blue blossomed around the irises of his silver eyes, which she’d never been close enough to really see. “I thought you’d cut me off, so I wanted to isolate you, to pull you away from them by showing how much better I was… but I wasn’t.  
“But you never seemed to really hold anything against me, not until I called Granger that word, then when I said I hoped she got killed—” he said. Siria gasped, but quickly stilled her face. “If you were going so far as to steal or brew Polyjuice Potion, I didn’t want to get in your way… not when you were so cross with me,” and he gazed at the ceiling, so he didn’t have to look her in the eyes any longer.  
“My point is, you never saw me as ‘Draco Malfoy’ the way I thought I would be, the way I thought I was, so what if You-Know-Who doesn’t either?” Malfoy asked. “What if he sees me how he saw Warrington? One more person in his way?” He tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “So, I figured that the worst that could happen is you would call my bluff.”  
“You weren’t going to tell Umbridge?” Siria grabbed his arm and he looked back up at her.  
“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” Malfoy asked.  
“No,” Siria shook her head and released his arm. “Consider it like therapy— nothing leaves this room.” She couldn’t seem to find anything else to say. Though she didn’t know what she expected, such a confession was not it.  
“Except us,” he made a small smile.  
“Right,” Siria nodded. “I actually have to go see someone about an application. We’ll arrange next week’s meeting once we know about Quidditch and the DA.”  
“I am sorry,” he said. “For trying to cut you off from the others.”  
“I know,” Siria nodded.  
She hurried from the trunk, out the washroom, and to Professor Chaudhary’s office. Siria rubbed her sweaty hands on her jeans. Her heart hammered for the exercise and nerves. “The worst he can say is ‘no’,” Siria told herself and knocked. 

In the cold, dimly lit hall, Siria stood before another door. Her heart hammered louder than before, harder than before. It ached in the shadows of the dungeons. She raised her fist and tapped the door. Then again.  
“Enter,” a voice colder than the corridor replied. Her hand shook on the door. She could run and he’d be none the wiser. Siria placed her head on the door. This was so easy. If she just went in. All she needed was a signature.  
The door pulled from her grasp. She rose to her full height, her shoulders arched up near her neck. Snape glowered down at her. Siria eyed him over the rim of her glasses.  
“What is it, Potter-Black?” Snape snapped. “It’s Sunday. I shouldn’t have to see you until tomorrow.”  
“I—” Siria’s voice was so small the shame of it made her wince. “Sir, I,” her eyes fell to her bag. Siria fiddled with it as she stepped into the office. He closed the door behind her and she silently wished he left it open.  
Siria placed a piece of filled out parchment on Snape’s desk. He swept it off, without sitting, and glared as though she handed him an envelope of bubotuber pus. Snape read back over the parchment, then examined Siria, who kept her eyes down.  
“What is this?” Snape scowled. She raised her eyes and wrung her hands around her bag strap.  
“It’s an application for independent study, sir,” Siria ignored the chattering of her teeth.  
“Independent study?” He repeated like she’d just sworn at him.  
“Yes, sir.” Siria focused on the dark eyes that glared at her and not at her throat sealing up.  
“And why, Potter-Black, should I approve you for independent study?” Snape asked. “When have you ever shown the aptitude for anything more than rule breaking and mouthing off?”  
“Sir,” Siria said through gritted teeth, “if you hate me so much, you should sign so you don’t have to see me anymore. Unless, nitpicking my Potions is the only satisfying thing in your life, sir.”  
Snape read over the application again. He sat at his desk. His eyes did not leave the parchment. Siria remained rooted to the spot. Snape wrote several lines on the page, but did not sign at the bottom. He rested the paper down, turned it to Siria, and presented her with a quill and ink bottle.  
Siria stepped forward to read the additions to her application.  
Professor Conditions:  
Potions will be submitted to the Hogwarts Potion’s Master weekly.  
Two essays, one roll of parchment each, must be submitted. One on a Potion ingredient, the other on an O.W.L. Potion.  
Once a month, an exam will be issued to the independent study student.  
Should the student fail to pass the exam or fail to meet any of the above requirements, the student’s independent study will be terminated. In addition to the student resuming Potions with the Hogwarts Potion’s Master, the student will use evening lessons to catch up to the material covered without them.  
“Is there an issue, Potter-Black?” Snape asked. A small smirk tugged in the corner of his mouth.  
“No, sir,” she dipped the quill and signed “Siria J. Potter-Black” on the bottom line above “Student”. Snape took the parchment and signed above “Professor”. He grinned at it.  
“I do hope you realise, Potter-Black, I shall be the one grading you,” he noted.  
“I do, sir,” she said. “May I have the application?”  
“I’ll submit it to Professor Chaudhary myself,” Snape said. “Wouldn’t want you to cave into any second thoughts.”  
“Thank you, sir.” Siria gave a small bow and made for the door before he could change his mind.

After lunch, in the Room of Requirement, Siria slid a piece of parchment into the nook of a mirror. She smiled at the updated list of Dumbledore’s Army. Beneath Miles and Hayes of Slytherin were Olive Foster, Nancy Hughes, Marolyn Yang, and Carl Powell of Gryffindor. Under their names, Augusta Ridgeway, Clara Simmons, Rees Russell, Eugene Wilfrid, and Polly Barnes of Ravenclaw signed. In addition to the fifty-nine visible names, was Draco Malfoy’s. Siria tapped the parchment with her wand and the names vanished. A seeminly plain piece of parchment was now fixed to the mirror, beneath a photo of the original Order of the Phoenix.  
Siria crossed her arms and smiled at it. Patricia placed her hand on Siria’s shoulder. She smiled down at her junior. Siria returned it.  
“I’m glad you let them in,” Patricia said. “And that you finally decided to teach people how to heal.”  
“It was always on the agenda, but you brought up a lot of good points,” Siria said. “Thank you, for making us keep up with our sessions. I know I’m not easy to deal with.”  
“You just need to vent, sometimes. Everyone does.”  
“I’ve never seen you vent.”  
“I do, but in private. It’s sometimes difficult to share things, you know,” but Patricia smiled. This piece of information was all she shared.  
Cassius blew the whistle. He opened his arms in a gesture of “Hello?” Siria chuckled and excused herself to co-lead the sessions with him. She placed the skeleton Malfoy practiced on out on the floor. Then pointed her wand and its ankle, which cracked as it had before. The other cracked, then the shoulder popped. Next each wrist. She directed her wand to the nose. Siria gave her wand a quick snap, then another. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.  
“It’s always the nose you have trouble with,” Cassius grinned. “It’s kind of funny, with how well you fix them,” he stomped on the skeleton’s nose. “Geminio!” And it became two skeletons. They repeated the Duplication Curse until there were almost thirty copies of the skeleton. As most of the others were used to, they divided into pairs, with a skeleton to each.  
“Alright,” Siria called their attention. Though taller than most of them, she stood on a chair. “Cassius and I will circle. Remember to use verbal casting, so we can help with your pronunciation—”  
“You weren’t using verbal casting,” Smith said. Siria glared at him.  
“You’re more likely to need to fix an ally’s ankle than break an enemy’s,” Siria said. “Unless you’re just aiming to hurt somebody, you shouldn’t be breaking their bones.” Siria stepped off the chair.  
Pair by pair, Cassius and Siria circled the room. It took them over an hour to meet in the middle, where they compared notes. Siria stepped to continue the way Cassius came. He took her arm. Cassius looked from Siria to Lily Moon. Siria pulled a smile on.  
“I asked her to come back. If I really care for her, then I need to help give her the best fighting chance,” Siria said. “She’s Muggleborn, and all,” she added. Cassius smirked and nodded.  
“Alright, P.B., but you have to look out for yourself first,” Cassius said.  
“Third,” Siria said and stepped away. She was right after Hermione and Ron.  
“Thank you for coming back,” Siria said as she knelt beside Susan Bones. Lily Moon nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to sooner and I won’t say anything further on it.”  
“You’ve gotten taller,” Lily Moon whispered. She kept her beautiful brown eyes on the skeleton. It was a shame it couldn’t see how her eyes glistened like pools of honey when sunlight hit them.  
“Someone told me it’s when I look my best,” Siria said. Susan Bones pointed to the skeleton’s nose.  
“Does— er— does that look alright?” She asked. Scarlet tinted Siria’s face. She examined in the skeleton’s nose from a hair away.  
“It would make do,” Siria ran her finger along it. “It would have to be set proper later, but this would stop the swelling and bleeding.”  
WHEE  
Cassius blew the whistle. “Dumbledore’s Army, good lesson, but it’s time to start filtering out,” he instructed. Hermione hugged Siria’s arm.  
“You should have seen the nose, once I finally got it,” Hermione smiled. “I think I finally have them down.”  
“Not as good as me,” said Ron. “If you ever break your nose, you should have me fix it.”  
“Weren’t you two using the same skeleton?” Siria asked.  
“Ron rebroke the nose,” Hermione tsked. Siria laughed.  
“How else could I practice?” he asked her.  
“Sit down,” Patricia told them. She slid a final, newly appeared chair, into a circle, in the middle of the Room. They nodded and followed her lead.  
“Are you considering being a therapist?” Hermione asked Patricia.  
“It’s a little late for that,” Patricia said.  
“It’s not,” Maddy snapped. She looked to Patricia, who humored her with a smile.  
“So, who’d like to share first?” Patricia asked. There was a pause.  
“Suppose I will,” Alice tsked. “Mr. Travers wrote another letter…”


	24. The Storm

**The Storm**   


After break on Monday, Siria parted with Hermione and Ron. While the two went down to the dungeons, she went up to Professor Chaudhary’s classroom. It was at least as large as the Potion’s classroom, but held maybe a dozen students. Each readied materials at their own table, meters away from each other.  
“Potter-Black,” Professor Chaudhary greeted her with a warm smile. She smiled back at him. “You must be quite the Potions expert,” he said while he led her to a table. “Professor Snape’s only approved one other student for independent study Potions, though I suppose most students don’t apply if there’s a teacher for it, or else parents are reluctant to approve it.”  
“I’m certainly something,” Siria said and placed her bag on the chair. “Are there any rules?”  
“It’s mostly just the things Professor Snape listed, but I do need to see you researching or otherwise engaging with the subject,” he said. “If you need to go to the library, you do need a pass, which I’ll use to log you out of the class, then Madam Pince will log you into the library when you arrive and out when you leave.” Siria nodded. “Let me know if you have any questions, though I’m no Potions expert.”  
“Thank you,” she said and Siria pulled out Most Testing Potions a Guide to the Common O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. Potions. She flipped through to the Erumpent Potion. Then she pulled out One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi to go over each material.  
Fifteen minutes before the end of the period, Siria bottled the bubbling green Potion. She put one bottle to the side, to be graded by Snape later, and then packed the others in her bag. Siria cleaned up her table. She brought the bottle to Professor Chaudhary.  
“That looks lovely,” Professor Chaudhary told her as he reached to accept the bottle.  
“It’s an Erumpent Potion,” she said and Professor Chaudhary retracted his hand.  
“I’ll ask for Professor Snape to come for it. That’s rather explosive, you know.”  
“Fair,” Siria smiled. “Where should I leave it?” She asked and he led her to station for bottles, where she placed her Potion.  
“How did you first lesson go?” Professor Chaudhary asked. “Are you a good teacher?” Siria smiled much larger than she meant to. “That good? Maybe you could teach me some day.”  
“Not in Potions, I—” Siria bit back the “I’m lousy at it” and raised her head a little taller, “I’m better at Defense Against the Dark Arts.”  
“See you Thursday, Potter-Black.”  
“Thank you, Professor Chaudhary.”

Later that week, with her fellow fifth year Gryffindors, Siria headed down to Hagrid’s hut. Hagrid beamed down at Siria, with a cow carcass over his shoulder. He didn’t have any new cuts, but his bruises looked worse. “Got anymore o’ yer balm?” Hagrid asked. “Darn handy, that stuff.”  
“Yeah,” Siria rummaged through her pockets and handed him another container of the same size. “I’ll bring you a bigger container this weekend,” she said. “I’ll have to brew you a batch.”  
“Look at yer, Siria the Potions Master,” Hagrid smiled. Siria smiled in reply, though she felt far from a Potions anything.  
“Alright, we’re goin’ into the forest,” Hagrid told the class once the Slytherins arrived. “Bit more sheltered and they prefer the dark,” he said as he led them toward the Forbidden Forest. [B5, 443]  
“What prefers the dark?” Malfoy asked, panic in his voice (B5, 443). Siria almost felt guilty for her and Ron’s grins. Malfoy’s last visit to the Forest resulted in a runin with Voldemort, not that he knew that. Hagrid explained he saved a trip to the Forest for their fifth year, to show them something rare. He told them that he might have the only trained herd in Britain. [B5, 443]  
After about ten minutes, they arrived in place where the trees were so close, no snow made it through to the ground. Hagrid dropped the cow on the ground and stepped away. He told to them to gather around then called for the creatures. It was like no call Siria had ever heard. Hagrid’s call was a shrieking cry. Everyone waited in silence. [B5, 444]  
Minutes passed with students looking around, waiting. “Oh!” Siria smiled, knowing she’d finally have an answer. She looked to Neville, who was frozen in terror. “It’s just the horse things,” Siria told him. He gave a single, silent, short nod. His eyes were fixed on the blank, white shing eyes of the reptilian-horse like being that pulled the carriages. [B5, 444-445]  
At first, most of the other students wondered why Hagrid didn’t call again. Hagrid pointed out that more were coming. Someone asked what they were. For answer, Hagrid pointed to the cow carcass, which was ripped in two by the creatures. [B5, 445]  
“Thestrals,” Hagrid introduced the creatures with pride. Hermione gave a small “oh!” of understanding. Hagrid started to explain that Hogwarts had a whole fleet, when Parvati interrupted to say that Professor Trelawney said they’re very unlucky. Hagrid explained that they weren’t unlucky, but are actually really clever. [B5, 446]  
When Hagrid asked if anyone knew why someone people could see them and others could not, Hermione rose her hand, to no one’s surprise (B5, 446). “The only people who can see thestrals are people who have seen death,” Hermione answered (B4, 446). Siria glanced around again, there were at least five people who saw the thestrals. She wondered if any of them had seen the Death Eater eaten by FiendFyre, as she had.  
No sooner did Hagrid award Hermione ten points for her correct answer, Umbridge gave her “hem, hem.” As it was Hagrid’s first time hearing, he consulted the closest thestral with concern. She coughed again. Hagrid greeted her in his usual friendly manner. For some reason, Umbridge spoke very slowly, almost as if breaking down the pronunciation of her words to help someone with their pronunciation, except hers sounded rude and not at all helpful. [B5, 446-447]  
Hagrid either did not notice or chose not to acknowledge it. He informed her the class was doing thestrals. She pretended not to hear him. Hagrid repeated “thestrals” and flapped his arms as he described them. Umbridge noted, aloud, as she wrote on her clipboard “has to restore to crude sign language.” [B5, 447]  
Though Umbridge told Hagrid to continue, she interrupted him with leading questions. “You are aware that thestrals are classified, by the Ministry of Magic, as dangerous?” (B5, 447) and “Are you suggesting you know better than the Ministry?” when Hagrid answered that they were not dangerous.  
“A dog er bite ya if yer bait it,” Hagrid told her. Umbridge gave a little “hm.” In her ridiculous slow tone and with her miming, she announced that she would ask the students questions. [B5, 447-449].  
Hagrid did his best to persist through the lesson. Unlike with Umbridge’s other inspections, she not only arrived late, but left early. Shortly after asking Neville who he saw die, she headed back to the castle. The rest of the class followed half an hour later. [B, 449]  
Hermione argued that, for Hagrid, thestrals were quite good. “I suppose most teachers would wait until after our O.W.L., but they’re quite interesting,” Hermione said. Siria thought of Hagrid’s Sunday return, when only a handful of Gryffindors greeted him warmly. The worst part was a small part of Siria knew Grubbly-Plank had a more sensible lesson plan. [B5, 442, 450].

Hufflepuff beat Ravenclaw in their match. To no one’s surprise, it resulted in another breakup between Cedric and Cho Chang. Bianca Storm gave the prefects a lecture on keeping their relationships out of everyone’s else’s business. “And then she snapped that I shouldn’t be snogging Olive in the library!” Ron huffed as he pulled Neville’s Herbology essay from Siria.  
“To be fair, you probably shouldn’t be snogging in the library,” Siria said. “Unless you want the Madam to throw you out again.”  
“I’s worth it,” Ron said. “When you get another girlfriend— or boyfriend, you’ll understand again.” Siria chuckled under her breath.  
“Siria,” called Neville. He leaned over his knees in the armchair to peer at her better. “I know you said I could copy, but I don’t understand what this means,” he confessed. Siria rose out of her arm chair in the common room, only to immediately lose it to Colin and Dennis Creevey. The brothers looked up at her with matching smiles. Siria narrowed her eyes, but said nothing and went to Neville’s side.  
“Ignore that bit,” Siria told Neville. “It’s about how changing color on animals, is why. That’ll be next year.” She put her arm along the back of his chair and read over him. “The thing about Vanishing Spells is they’re not like Disillusionment or Invisibility Charms because it’s there, but as something else.”  
“Like a Switching Spell?” Neville asked.  
“It’s more like when you boil water and all the water evaporates,” Siria said. “All the pieces are there, but you can’t see them anymore.” She eyed down her paper then his. “You can keep that part in, but you’ll want to look at Transfiguration Today, for the next part.”  
“I’m surprised it’s permitted material,” Neville confessed as he pulled an issue off the table and into his lap. “There’s some really advanced stuff in here, like people turning into hedgehogs.”  
“The Ministry’s not really interested in Animagi,” said Siria. She caught Ron’s eye. He tapped his empty wrist and Siria looked to her watch. “Neville, if you got anymore questions, ask Hermione when comes back down— or Colin, really,” Siria said and swept her bag onto her shoulder. “See you!”  
Siria hurried out of the common room before anyone could ask her anything. She leapt down the stairs to the second floor, where she slowed to a casual walk. With another glance over her shoulder, she slipped into Myrtle’s bathroom. Her heart missed a beat.  
In almost any other circumstance, Siria would have found the person glaring at her to be endearing. The adorable figure, shorter than Lily Moon, looked ready to fight Siria. Her long dark braids continued to sway from her quick turn around to face the door.  
“Storm,” Siria greeted. She forced a smiled and glanced over Storm’s head, to Malfoy who mimed shaking a wand at Siria. He mouthed “Duel! Duel! Duel!” Malfoy froze, as if turned to stone, when Storm’s head turned, ever so slightly, in his direction.  
“I can’t believe you’re butting into people’s duels,” Siria said. “Shouldn’t you be studying for your N.E.W.T.s?”  
“You expect me to believe you and Malfoy sneak out to Myrtle’s toilet every few weeks to duel?” Storm asked. Her eyes narrowed at Siria. Siria scratched at the back of her head and looked to Malfoy.  
“You—” Storm began as Siria did. Storm cocked her head up at Siria.  
“I was going to say you caught us,” Siria said. “We meet here to snog.” Malfoy rubbed his forehead as if to rub out the creases of disbelief.  
“Potter-Black, you expect me to believe that the two of you sneak around to…” a tinge colored her cheeks. Siria bit her lip and rocked on the balls of her feet.  
“Surely you can see why— so close after my break up with Moon,” Siria said. “Storm, you know how some of the girls gossip.”  
“Then prove it,” Storm said. She crossed her arms and smirked at Siria. Siria stiffened for half a breath. “If you sneak down here to snog, you must be close. What do you call each other?”  
“What?” Malfoy asked, his face so pink they may as well confess. “That’s awfully private,” he tried to cover.  
“Maybe I ought to tell Umbridge to board it up then,” Storm said.  
“My Little Dragon,” Siria blurted. She clapped her hands to her face and hoped it looked like embarrassment at sharing and not humiliation at her desperation.  
“And you?” Storm asked Malfoy. Siria peered through her fingers at them.  
“Kitten,” Malfoy lied with more pride than Siria could manage at this point.  
Storm swept her braids around. She placed her hand on her hip and arched an eyebrow at Siria. Her silent examination was maddening. Siria dropped her hands from her face to stand with her hands loosely in her pockets. She gazed through her bangs at Storm, who moved her glare to Malfoy.  
“While I’ll note your poor quick thinking, I happen to know you’re not here to snog,” Storm told them. Siria rushed her hands into a “come on!” at Malfoy, then snapped them back into her pockets. He mouthed “not me!” when Storm flickered her gaze back to Siria. “Sure, you might casually engage in romantic things here, but it’s not your main goal. You don’t spend an hour in a secret or invisible room for privacy.”  
“I mean, we do,” Siria confessed honestly to that part. The only true thing she had said since stepping in. She sighed.  
“Alright, Storm. We aren’t together, but we do sort of duel,” Siria said. “What? Do you want in?”  
“Quite frankly,” Storm snapped, “yes.”  
“What?” Siria asked. She leaned down, as though being closer to Storm would change the answer. Storm stuck her hand out, to stop Siria.  
“I have my N.E.W.T. this year and I need at least an E in Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Storm said.  
“Oh?” Siria asked. She stood back up and looked to Malfoy. “I mean,” she shrugged.  
“Other,” Malfoy mouthed at her. “Other!”  
“Okay. I do need you to sign a contract, of sorts, to not say anything to Umbridge,” Siria said.  
“Fine,” said Storm. “But, I’ve a lot of catching up to do, so, if you can do a few private lessons— you don’t have another match until February, so Quidditch shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll speak with Johnson,” and she left them.  
“My little dragon?” Malfoy repeated in a hiss. “What in Merlin’s name did you call Moon?” Siria scoffed.  
“Kitten? What part of me is remotely cat like?” Siria snapped back. “Paddy would’ve been better.”  
“Patty? Like Patricia?” Malfoy asked. The two sighed.  
“Sorry,” Myrtle whispered as she floated down from the ceiling. “I missed you when I left to find you,” Myrtle told Siria.  
“It isn’t your fault,” Siria said. “We need a better lie than ‘dueling’.”  
“Because ‘snogging’ was so much more believable,” Malfoy shook his head as he stomped down the stairs of the room.  
“It’s because it’s so unbelievable that it is believable,” Siria defended. “No one’s going to think we’d lie that poorly.”  
“We apparently do lie that poorly,” Malfoy put his bag down. Siria let hers fall off her shoulder as she whipped her wand out. “We drastically overreacted. She just wanted to join.”  
“Who would expect that from the Headgirl?”  
“Who would expect the Headboy would help start it?”  
“It’s over, at least” Siria said. She smirked as Malfoy raised his wand. They bowed.

December brought more snow, unflyable conditions, and an avalanche of homework (B5, 451). Prefect duties increased, but Cedric and Storm tag-teamed to get D.A. evenings off for them. “But every last one of you better have your homework done,” Storm told the D.A. members. They spent a half hour every lesson checking everyone’s homework as Storm got her one-on-one time with Siria.  
Astoria Greengrass crab walked along the wall, to Siria. “Astoria!” Siria heard Daphne hiss. Siria scanned around to see Astoria behind her. She raised a hand as Storm lowered her wand. “Sorry,” Astoria said to Storm. “Hermione said you’re rattling things,” Astoria whispered. “She didn’t want to draw attention, but she said it’ll be bad if someone else notices. Can you tell me something about how to turn a teapot into a tortoise?”  
“Uh…” Siria paused, “you have to think about what the tortoise should look like and not what the teapot does?” Siria said with less certainty than she should have. “Picture how the shell should look, the way the skin should feel, like when you turn a snail into a teapot.”  
“Oh!” Astoria announced in a clear voice that carried. “That makes a lot of sense,” she beamed at Siria.  
“Good, but don’t sneak up on people dueling,” Siria said. “I appreciate the warning,” she whispered then raised her voice so others would hear. “If I dodge a spell and don’t know you’re there, it’ll hit you.”  
“You could fix it fine,” Astoria assured her and skipped back to Daphne’s side. Millicent covered her grin at Daphne combing Astoria’s hair with her fingers.  
“You’re well liked,” Storm noted. She put her wand away. Siria slid her wand into her jacket pocket and nodded. They approached each other.  
“You’re respected,” Siria said. Storm winced a smile.  
“I am feared, and there’s a difference,” Storm said. She glanced through the Room and her fellow D.A. members. Siria rubbed the back of her neck.  
“I mean—”  
“You do that often,” Storm noted. “It’s a tell that you’re not sure. You should fix that,” she said and walked away. Siria mouthed, wordlessly, at the air Storm had filled. Each of their conversations ended on Storm’s terms and Siria let them.  
WHEE!  
“Okay,” Siria called to the Room. “I’ve got something special planned for the next lesson. It’ll be the last one before break—” she let the boos pass, “— so I expect you all to be on your feet and ready to go. I’m confident you’ve got it in the bag.”  
“What is it?” Susan Bones asked.  
“Something from Hagrid?” Hannah Abbott asked.  
“You’ll just have to see.”


	25. The Eye of the Snake

**The Eye of the Snake**   


Crumbled walls, toppled bookshelves, and scattered books decorated the uneven floor of the Room of Requirement. Archaic machines rumbled like lawn mowers throughout the room. Where the preferred path around grew narrow, string hung in a loose mock laser maze.  
Siria Potter-Black beamed from the center of the obstacle course. Dumbledore’s Army, sans the invisible name, looked at her in disbelief. They looked to Cassius, who shrugged.  
“Since it’s the last lesson before the Holiday, it doesn’t make sense to start something new,” Siria started. She gritted her teeth at Smith.  
“We’re not learning anything new? I wouldn’t have come if I knew,” Smith said (B5, 454).  
“We’re all really sorry Siria didn’t tell you then,” Fred announced loudly (B5, 454).  
“Thank you,” Siria mouthed.  
She directed her attention at no one in particular. “Rather than doing pairs, which we’ve done enough of, you’ll be running the course in randomly decided groups,” Siria explained. Siria pointed her wand at a small plastic bin, which zoomed to her. “Everyone’ll take a ball, which has a number painted on it and you’ll pair up in groups of five. Rather than a smaller group, the last few numbers will join one of the first.  
“Your time ends when every member of your group makes it back to the start,” Siria continued as she handed around the bin and everyone took a ball.  
“And why does our time matter?” Smith asked as the groups sorted themselves. Siria pointed to a basket beside the door. It was stuffed with Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, and various other sweets. There were also several stacks of bound parchment.  
“First place gets the basket, which has copies of all Hermione’s notes,” Siria said.  
“Cassius and I will watch from the center, casting hexes and jines” Siria told them as the first group took their place behind a white line. “Good luck!”  
WHEE!  
At the end of the lesson, after Astoria Greengrass, Bianca Storm, Cedric Diggory, Padma Patil, Susan Bones, and George Weasley received the winner’s basket, Siria handed everyone else a small bag. She extended Zacharias Smith’s. He glared at it. “What was the point if everyone gets one?” He asked.  
“If you don’t want it,” Siria drew it back toward herself, but he held his hand out for it. She let him have it.  
“What’s this?” Smith asked as he pulled out a roll of parchment.  
“Notes on Hermione’s Charm notes,” Siria said. “That’s your worst subject, isn’t it?” Smith said nothing and examined the parchment.  
“Everyone has a roll of parchment,” George said. He eyed Fred’s then Siria. “Did you write sixty rolls?” He asked her.  
“That’s ridiculous,” Siria said. “Neville wrote five for Herbology and I duplicated them.”  
“This is for Potions,” Fred noted and unrolled his parchment. Siria pretended not to notice and continued to hand out the bags. Fred and George walked after her.  
“Those are just notes on Cassius’s notes,” Siria said and handed Lily Moon a bag.  
“I’m really fine with just a Happy Christmas,” Lily Moon told her.  
“You don’t want the Transfiguration notes?” Siria asked. Lily Moon’s endless pools of honey searched Siria’s face. “It’s got your name on it,” Siria added and flicked the tag around the neck of the bag. Lily Moon accepted it.  
“It’s one thing,” George began as he and Fred continued to follow on her heels.  
“To hand out a Chocolate Frog and box of Bertie Bott’s,” said Fred.  
“To everyone,” George shot Smith a short glare.  
“Which is already excessive,” said Fred.  
“Very,” George agreed. “But to hand write sixty rolls?”  
“Minus Neville’s,” added Fred. Siria sighed and handed the last roll to Miles Hayes of Slytherin before she rounded on Fred and George.  
“For the record, I only wrote twenty rolls,” Siria told them. “You’ve seen me use Geminio, it really shouldn’t be a surprise that I copied them until I had enough.”  
“That’s not what’s surprising,” said George.  
“Okay,” Fred called to the room with his hand cupped to his mouth, “would everyone please look at their parchment—” Siria socked him in the arm.  
“And raise your hand if it isn’t your worst subject,” George finished. Siria tsked and crossed her arms at them.  
“That’s quite a glare for someone so nice,” Fred said. He pinched her cheek and she smacked his hand away.  
“Ms. Potter-Black here took the time to learn everyone’s worst subject and write a guide,” George told the room.  
“That’s very Hermione of you,” Fred added.  
“Neville wrote the Herbology ones!” Siria shouted.  
With all the eyes on her, thank yous, and hugs, Siria was surprised her face didn’t erupt with the blood from her blush. Cho Chang hugged Siria. “Thank you,” Cho whispered. “Things must be awkward, with me and Cedric, but…” She tightened her hug.  
“No problem,” Siria patted Cho’s back. Cho sniffled. She let go of Siria then rubbed quickly under her eyes and hurried out with her friend Marietta Edgecombe.  
“Have a good holiday,” Lily Moon waved to Siria as she left with Susan Bones and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Siria waved too late and caught Justin instead. She sighed at the almost empty room. It was mostly the usual last people: her, Ron, Hermione, Cassius, Alice, Maddy and Patricia, even Cedric left. Daphne and Astoria remained, whispering in the corner.  
Astoria approached Siria with her arms around the larger bag the winning group received. For what felt like the first time, Astoria’s gaze was at the ground. She stuck her prize out, to Siria. “You earned it,” Siria told her. “Or can you not have the sugar?”  
“I didn’t earn it,” Astoria whispered. “I only got it because everyone else was older and better.” Siria resisted the urge to hug Astoria and flat out deny that.  
“Why do you feel that way?” Siria asked.  
“I didn’t do anything,” Astoria told her feet.  
“Really?”  
“Everyone protected me.”  
“And who protected them?”  
“They did?”  
“Did they? Siria rubbed at her lip. She closed her eyes and focused on her memories of the run. “But, who used a Shield Charm to protect Padma?”  
“Well Smith said that didn’t deserve it,” Astoria said to the ground. “He said I an unfair advantage.”  
“Astoria, when you fight for your life, it doesn’t matter if you make it out because Merlin himself is on your side or if you make it out by the skin of your teeth— all that matters is making it out,” Siria said. “Sure, this was a fun little D.A. meeting, but you, Astoria Greengrass, helped your team get first. You were the quickest through the string maze.”  
“Only because I’m so tiny,” Astoria said. Siria ruffled Astoria’s hair and beamed at her.  
“Everyone has an advantage at something. Use yours,” Siria told her.  
“Now, if you feel that, even though you made it through maze first, and protected Padma, and blew up the frisbee that almost got Cedric, then I might accept the prize back,” Siria said. “I would, of course have something I’d’ve no idea what to do with. I already have some leftover sweets and the original parchment rolls, so…” Siria tucked her hands in her pockets and shrugged. Astoria looked to Daphne. Daphne nodded.  
“I guess I did help, a little bit,” Astoria said. Siria beamed, but quickly suppressed her smile.  
“Well, since you agree. I think you earned it.”  
“Merry Christmas,” Astoria said. She put the bag down and hugged Siria.

For a moment Siria was at Grimmauld Place, in living room. Except, it wasn’t the living room at all. The television and constellation lights were there, but it was covered in topled bookshelves. Astoria Greengrass was on the screen and kept saying her name was Inigo Montoya. Any time Siria put a pillow under her, it turned into a large Chocolate Frog. “They only have one good jump,” Ron told her. His arms were full of large headless, kicking Chocolate Frogs. [first movie]  
Her feet flipped out from under and hit the ceiling. In the same moment her body changed and the room did. She had no legs nor arms. Her body was smooth, strong and glided of its own accord down the corridor. Though it was dark, things glittered in vibrant colors. She could almost taste their heat. [B5, 462]  
A man, alive, but asleep, blocked the door at the end of the corridor. She wanted to bite the man, but no… now was not the time. There was important work to be done. Her tail shook as she tried to steady the impulse, but the man moved. He stirred. A cloak fell from his legs as he leapt to his feet. She had no choice— He would understand. Her head swept high off the floor and she struck him, deep, with her sharp fangs. His body fell into the wall behind him as she stuck again. Blood splattered around her. Her head split open as she reared for a third strike. [B5, 462-463]  
Siria screamed as voices shouted her name. Cool clapped over her head, but she clawed at it. Her scar must have split open. What else could cause this? She reared onto her side and emptied her stomach. [B5, 463]  
“Siria!” Lavender shrieked. “Fay, hurry!”  
“I’m here!” Hermione called to Siria from her side. “I’m right here! You’re okay.”  
“Mr. Weasley,” Siria gasped. She had to tell them. “Bleeding— snake,” she gagged as more vomit escaped her.  
“Siria,” Parvati called. “We’re right here. We’re at school. It was just another nightmare.”  
“No,” Siria shuddered as Hermione rubbed her back. “No,” she shook her head. “Mr. Weasley, he’s bleeding. I— he was attacked.”  
“Do you think it was like the Wormtail dream?” Hermione asked. Siria shuddered a nod. [B5, 463]  
Somehow, she was on her feet. Someone pulled at her hair. Her shirt was off and she was cold. “Come on,” Lavender grumbled as Siria’s arm went through a sleeve.  
“Her jacket,” Hermione said. Siria’s other arm went through a sleeve too. Her back was warm now. Someone smashed something to her face— her glasses.  
“Lift your bleeding foot,” Parvati snapped.  
“No,” Siria’s head hurt. Dull shocks stabbed at it. “Mr. Weasley’s bleeding.”  
“So put your shoes on,” Parvati hissed. [B5, 463-464]  
“Hurry, please,” Siria heard Fay call from the distance. She entered, breaths later with Professor McGonagall. Siria reached for Professor McGonagall. That’s who she needed, a member of the Order of the Phoenix.  
“What is it, Potter-Black? Where does it hurt?”  
“Mr. Weasley’s been attacked— by Nagini, probably,” Siria spat out. “Please, you have to believe me,” Siria grabbed onto Professor McGonagall.  
“I do, Potter-Black,” Professor McGonagall eyed Siria’s wear. She looked to the other girls. “You lot go back to bed, I’m taking Potter-Black to the headmaster.” [B5, 465]  
Professor McGonagall led the way to Dumbledore’s office, though Siria knew it well enough. They rode the staircase to the door with the griffin knocker. It sounded like Dumbledore was entertaining guests. Siria checked her watch and saw it after one in the morning. [B5, 466-467]  
Dumbledore called for them to enter. His usually bright office was framed in half darkness. It was only him and sleeping Fawkes, despite the voices Siria and Professor McGonagall heard moments before. Siria examined the portraits of former headmasters, who appeared sleeping. Phineas Nigellus cracked an eye open to peek at Siria, who caught him. He quickly dropped his head as though deeply asleep. She knew him from the Black Family tree and he had Sirius’s nose. [B5, 467]  
“Oh, it’s you, Professor McGonagall, and...” Dumbledore greeted. His eyes barely flickered to Siria before they fell on one of his still silver instruments. Siria rose her head up and resolved to look directly at him, even if he refused to look at her. She took in the detailed embroidery of his robes, which was either done with magic or took someone weeks.  
“Mr. Weasley’s been attacked,” Siria said as matter of factly as if she were noting the miniscule embroidered moons on his purple and gold dressing gown. “It was like the dream I had of Wormtail, last year and the pain in my scar made me hurl.”  
“How did you see this?” Dumbledore asked quietly with his eyes on his linked fingers. Siria closed her eyes and took a breath.  
“Hermione, Ron, George, Fred,” she ran the names off in her head as she clenched her fists to handle her temper.  
“I dreamt I was Voldemort’s snake,” Siria focused on her fist. An urge inside her trembled. If she just threw something at him, he’d look then. Her gaze fluttered to the floor before it returned to his face. [B5, 467-468]  
The room was as silent as when she entered. Fawkes’s quiet breaths of sleep and the faint hint of chamomile carried through the room. Siria continued to list the people and things she loved. Any moment now, he would see the gravity of the situation.  
“Is Arthur seriously injured?”  
“Yes!” Siria rolled her eyes. “Blood splattered all over.”  
“Everard?” Dumbledore turned to the portraits on the wall, “And you too, Dilys!” He requested they visit their other portraits. A shallow-faced wizard and a witch with silver ringlets left their frames. They had no shame in confessing to hearing every word. [B5, 469]  
Professor McGonagall summoned two chairs, one for her and one for Siria. Siria clicked her tongue, but, at the glare Professor McGonagall gave her, dropped into the chair so quickly it tilted. Dumbledore told Fawkes they would need a warning and the bird disappeared in a flash of fire. [B5, 469]  
Though it was at Dumbledore’s order Professor McGonagall summoned chairs, Dumbledore walked over to one of his silver instruments. With a tap of his wand it ticked to life like a music box. Green smoke puffed out. It formed a serpent’s head, which opened wide. Siria glared into Dumbledore’s eyes, but he did not look to her. She sighed and eyed Phineas Nigellus. [B5, 470]  
“You have Sirius’s nose,” Siria said, loudly to draw the attention. Phineas Nigellus continued to pretend he was fast asleep. “Well, I suppose Sirius’s nose looks more regal.” The corner of Phineas Nigellus’s mouth twitched. Siria smirked. She crossed an arm over herself to rest her chin on the hand of her other. “Professor McGonagall, is that Phineas Nigellus the one related to the Black Family?”  
“Yes,” Professor McGonagall said.  
“Strange. He must be the only Black that could sleep like the dead,” Siria said.  
Phineas Nigellus glared at Siria. She grinned in reply. “So, would you be my Great-Great-Great-Great Grandpappy?” Siria asked. “Or should there be more ‘Greats’?”  
“You’re adopted, so you’re hardly a Black,” Phineas Nigellus told her.  
“Tell that to whoever takes my last name,” Siria said. He scoffed.  
“Dumbledore!” the sallow-faced wizard gasped as he fell into his armchair. “I yelled and someone came running,” the wizard explained how people were reluctant to go down, as there are not portraits there. When whoever he sent did, they found Mr. Weasley. The witch dove into her portrait.  
“They’ve taken him to Saint Mungo’s, Dumbledore,” the silver ringleted witch informed them. She added that Mr. Weasley looked bad. [B5, 471].  
Professor McGonagall was sent to fetch the other Weasley children. Siria waited alone, with Dumbledore and the portraits. Dumbledore sent Phineas Nigellus to his other portrait, however reluctant Phineas was to leave. [B5, 472-473]  
Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron entered with Professor McGonagall right behind them. Ginny barely started to ask what happened when Dumbledore spoke. “Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix. He has been taken to St. Mungo’s. You are going to Sirius’s house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow. Molly will meet you there.” [B5, 473-474]  
Dumbledore withdrew a bland looking kettle, which he placed on his desk and tapped with his wand. A flash of flame and single golden feather signaled Fawkes’s warning. Dumbledore sent Professor McGonagall to stop Umbridge. Phineas Nigellus stepped into his portrait. The Weasleys and Siria gathered around the kettle. Dumbledore confirmed they knew how to use a Portkey. Siria hesitated, but placed her hand on it with the others. [B5, 474]  
“One… two…” Dumbledore counted down. For the smallest moment, so small it slipped through her hands like sand. Dumbledore met Siria’s eye. An urge, as great as the one that poured from her when she attacked Mr. Weasley, burst from Siria. She wanted to strike at Dumbledore with her fangs. “Three.” [B5, 474-475]  
The office, its portraits, Dumbledore’s clear blue eyes and their strangely almost solid color, spun out of sight. [B5, 475]


	26. St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

**St. Mungo’s Hospital  
** for Magical Maladies and Injuries  


Cinnamon and sugar so dense the air tasted of it. The Portkey brought Siria and the Weasleys into the warm, half lit basement kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Four arms wrapped around Siria. One set belonged to Sirius. The other to Chloe. Kreacher croaked for them to get back.  
“Mistress!” Kreacher smiled like it had been months and not yesterday. Had it really only been yesterday?  
“Siria,” Sirius held his daughter’s face in his hand. He examined it as though looking for wounds. “What happened?” He asked “Dumbledore said Arthur’s been attacked.”  
“I’d like to hear this too,” George said. He dropped into a kitchen chair, as did Fred. Ginny and Ron seemed hesitant, but joined. [B5, 476]  
“I should go,” Chloe told them. She picked her bag up off the back of a chair, kissed Siria’s forehead, and waved farewell.  
Sirius urged Siria into a chair and sat beside her. She wished they were not opposite the Weasleys. It felt so much harder to tell them. She closed her eyes. Somewhere, she wondered if she could handle the looks they were sure to give.  
With the exception of the odd dream Siria had before the vision, she recounted each detail. Sirius placed his arm around her shoulders. He moved a little closer when Siria confessed to the second strike. She waited in silence when she finished. [B5, 475]  
“Is Mum here?” Fred asked (B5, 476). Siria lowered her head.  
“She’d be at hospital, at best,” Sirius said. “Dumbledore wanted you out before Umbridge caught wind of it.” [B5, 476]  
“We’ve got to go to St. Mungo’s” Ginny said. Siria heard three chairs scrap against the floor. “Could you lend us clothes?”  
“You can’t go until we hear from your mother,” Sirius said and his grip on Siria’s shoulder loosened.  
“He’s our dad,” said Fred. “‘Course we can go!” (B5, 476)  
“And how are you going to explain you knew Arthur was attacked before Molly did?” Sirius asked as his arm withdrew. [B5, 476]  
“What does that matter?” George snapped.  
“It matters because we can’t draw attention to the fact Siria is having visions of things hundreds miles away!” Sirius said as his chair scraped against the floor. “Have you any idea what the Ministry would do with that information?” [B5, 476]  
Invisible to the participants of the shouting match, Siria pressed her face into her hands. If she could see through the snake, could it see through her? Her stomach turned. She could not stop it, but could it stop her? Could it move through her? Was it a Horcrux too? Siria held her breath like it would stop the tears. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter.  
“This is why you’re not in the Order,” Sirius shouted at Fred and George. “You don’t understand there are things worth dying for!”  
“Siria?” Ron’s whisper cut Fred’s breath short.  
“I’m so sorry,” Siria cried. “If I was a better Horcrux—”  
“Siria,” Sirius hissed. She pulled her hands from her face and looked to him.  
“They already know what I am.” Her teeth chattered. She couldn’t look to the others. “If I was stronger, I might have been able to stop it.”  
Sirius knelt before her. He wiped at her tears with his sleeve, but she pulled her own hands up to block him. Sirius clicked his tongue in quiet disappointment.  
“You,” Fred started. He eyed George, who Siria looked to as well.  
“You think is a Horcrux thing?” George asked. Siria shrugged.  
“What else would it be? Possession?” Siria asked.  
“Do— do you remember...” Ginny paused. Fred put an arm around her. “Do you remember everything?”  
“I do…” Siria whispered. The gush of warmth when her fangs punctured… she covered her mouth.  
“I don’t think it’s possession,” Ginny said. She sat down, with Fred and George on either side of her.  
“It wouldn’t be good for them to know,” George said.  
“About the Horcrux thing,” said Fred.  
“And they only take the best at St. Mungo’s,” George added.  
“And you made sure they found dad,” said Fred. More tears and an apology escaped Siria. [B5, 499]  
She wanted to beat herself with the chair. Their dad was dying and she was the one crying. What would it matter if the Ministry knew? The worst they could do was kill her. When Kreacher opened the oven, she wondered if it would stop the pain to just—  
“Mistress,” Kreacher called with a gummy smile. “Kreacher has learned cinnamon rolls. Kreacher’s frosting is very good. Even the Muggle says so,” he said.  
“Oh,” Siria hiccuped. He placed a large cinnamon roll, the size of Ron’s hand, on a plate before Siria. She tried to tell him that she wasn’t hungry, but it smelt so good. The frosting smelt like cream cheese and more cinnamon. It was warm and soft.  
A flash of fire dropped a golden letter and a roll of parchment. Mrs. Weasley sent a short note, which George read aloud. “Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo’s now. Stay where you are. Will send news as soon as I can. Mum.” The siblings took turns reading over the note, as though they would find additional information or words of comfort. [B5, 478]  
“Kreacher, could I get one?” Ron asked after they each read the letter. “It smells amazing,” Ron said at the look Fred gave him. “And we don’t know when we’ll hear from mum.” Kreacher readied five more cinnamon rolls, though Fred and Ginny hardly touched theirs. Occasionally, Sirius would rub Siria’s cowlick down. Kreacher took the seat beside Siria. He told her of the new recipes he tried since she left for school.  
They hovered in states of half sleep. Kreacher was the only one with energy. Somehow, everyone had tea. It smelt like rose, honey, and calm. Siria thought she finished hers twice. Both times her cup grew warm and heavy when her eyes fluttered closed for just a moment. She put her glasses on the table and listened to Kreacher who grew loud then quiet in waves.  
Just past five, the upstairs door swung open. The lot of them startled awake. Sirius and Siria stepped back so the Weasleys could greet their mother. They heard Mrs. Weasley’s tired voice crack “He’s going to be alright.” Sirius hugged Siria and kissed the top of her head. [B5, 479]  
“He’ll be alright,” Siria repeated into the quiet kitchen.  
Once the Weasleys returned to the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley pulled Siria into a tight hug. Siria’s fingers trembled before they grasped at Mrs. Weasley. “You should hate me,” Siria choked.  
“Siria?” Mrs. Weasley looked her in the eyes. “Siria, I don’t know what would have happened if it hadn’t been for you. It could have been hours before they found Arthur and…” She placed her face beside Siria and hugged her again. “Thanks to you, Arthur is alive and Dumbledore was able to make a cover story for why Arthur was there. If he hadn’t… look at poor Sturgis.” [B5, 479-480]  
Kreacher fried up bacon and eggs, which everyone seemed to have room for now that the anxiety of Mr. Weasley’s condition was gone. Mrs. Weasley thanked Sirius for having them and Sirius extended through Arthur’s stay at St. Mungo’s. Everyone went upstairs to rest. [B5, 481]  
When Siria was sure the others were asleep, she slipped from her bunk. She snuck up the stairs, to Sirius’s room, but only Mrs. Weasley was there. Siria found Sirius down in the study. He pulled the corners of his mouth into a small smile that confessed he figured she wouldn’t sleep.  
“How can I be sure Voldemort won’t take me over?” Siria asked. She sighed and pulled her legs into the armchair as she sat down. “I don’t suppose the prophecy says—”  
“Siria,” Sirius hissed. She forced a smile.  
“I couldn’t stop the snake attacking.. But what if he can make me attack someone?” She asked. “There was a moment, when Dumbledore finally looked me in the eye, and I—I…” Siria placed her hand over her mouth. “Sirius, I wanted to bite him.”  
“You were ti—” Sirius began.  
“I was not tired!” She snapped. “I was awake enough to bait Phineas Nigellus and… could we just operate under the possibility I wasn’t ‘just tired’ and it is Voldemort?”  
Sirius leaned against the desk. He took in Siria’s face like it hurt him. The creases around his eyes spoke of a man much older than the one that wore them. His grey eyes were matte with exhaust from the night they witnessed.  
“If it is Voldemort, I would say that I will have to take a leave of absence, after the holiday,” Sirius said. “Even if it is Voldemort, could you humor your old man and celebrate the Holiday?”  
“What about the others?” Siria asked. “What if Voldemort takes me over and I attack them?”  
“How comfortable are you in your Animagus form?”  
“Like, am I comfortable enough to spend the rest of break as a dog?”  
“Just when you sleep. That seems to be when you glimpse into his mind. Now, I don’t much remember my dreams when I’m a dog,” he said.  
“Okay,” Siria nodded. “I suppose that’s fair.”  
Siria closed her eyes. Where she sat, she morphed into a large, black dog. The lightning scar was buried beneath the thick, jet black fur. It was most visible with her eyes closed, and the end of the scar was visible. She yawned and curled up on the armchair. Siria put her head on the arm rest. Something about the smell of home sent her to sleep.

 

Tonks, with her hair bright pink, and Mad-Eye Moody with a bowler hat tilted to cover his eye, accompanied the Weasleys, Siria, and Sirius to St. Mungo’s. Sirius kept one arm on his wand, in his pocket, and the other around Siria the entire way. She wanted to ask why they didn’t just walk her on a baby leash when Sirius paused to keep Siria close to Moody when a group of shoppers past. [B5, 481-483]  
“Did they really hide the hospital on a shopping street?” Siria asked Sirius.  
“To be fair, where else do you hide something so large that needs to be on the surface?” Sirius asked. “It’s slightly off the beaten path,” he told her as they approached Purge and Dowse Ltd. Siria eyed Sirius over her glasses. The red bricks were sunbleached almost pink. Their mortar was caked with grime. Its window displays would have been cute and retro, if they weren’t faded enough to be 80’s originals. Large, dusty signs hung in the window and read CLOSED FOR REFURBISHMENT. [B5, 483]  
Tonks leaned so close to the glass before a mannequin that it fogged when she spoke. “Wotcher… we’re here to see Arthur Weasley.” Siria stepped back, but could not go far with Sirius’s arm on her shoulder. He was completely unfazed by the mannequin’s nod and beackon. Sirius led Siria through the glass, after Ginny, Tonks, and Mrs. Weasley. [B5, 483]  
Once their party was through, they went to the Welcome Desk. Siria caught the eye of Dilys Derwent, the silver ringleted witch from Dumbledore’s office. Dilys nodded to Siria and stepped from her portrait. [B5, 484-485]  
Sirius pointed the floor guide out to Siria. Artifact Accidents on the ground floor, Creature-Induced Injuries on the first, Magical bugs on the second, Potion and Plant Poisoning on the third, Spell Damage on the fourth, and the Visitors’ Tearoom and Hospital Shop fifth floor. [B5, 485-486]  
“How do Magical Hospitals work?” Siria asked Sirius as another person approached the Welcome Desk. “I mean, Snape isn’t a doctor, but he brewed the Potion for Chloe, right?”  
“Healers are different than doctors,” said Sirius. “I don’t know how Muggle Hospitals work, but if only three people are known to have accomplished something successfully, then they’re brought in to do it.”  
“Only three people brew Chloe’s Potion?” Siria asked. She looked up at her father, though the distance between their eye levels had grown smaller.  
“It’s like the Wolfsbane Potion,” said Sirius. “Only, more people know that one. Snape and  
Anahita Daryaee are the only two documented Potions Masters, aside from the creator, Shu-fen Li, to brew and use it on someone.”  
“It’s that difficult?” Siria asked.  
“It’s more that it isn’t commonly used,” said Sirius. “Anahita Daryaee and Shu-fen Li both used it on themselves, which is quite risky.” He pointed to a poster that read “Antidotes are Anti-Don’ts unless approved by a qualified Healer.” [B5, 484]  
“But wouldn’t Dr. Daryaee know that it would work, since it worked for Dr. Li? Or are you worried about my Potion experiments now that I’m free of Snape?”  
“Both,” he said. “And neither Daryaee or Li are Healers. They’re simply very accomplished in Potions.”  
“‘Simply’?” Siria asked as they followed the others toward Mr. Weasley’s room. She linked her hands around his arm. “One of them found an insanely complicated cure and the other was the second of three to learn it. What do you use on someone like that?”  
“All of your respect,” Sirius patted Siria’s hand.  
“We’ll wait outside, Molly. Arthur won’t want too many visitors at once,” Tonks said. “It ought to be family first.” (B5, 487) Mad-Eye leaned against the wall. Sirius leaned a few paces from him, with Siria beside him. Mrs. Weasley reached for Siria. “Don’t be silly, dear, Arthur wants to thank you,” she said. Siria looked to Sirius, who shrugged and let Molly pull Siria into Mr. Weasley’s room. [B5, 487]  
Mrs. Weasley pulled Siria to Mr. Weasley’s bedside. He was propped up on pillows, with the Daily Prophet in hand. Mr. Weasley was beside the only small window in the room. The other two patients paid them no mind. [B5, 487-488]  
Mr. Weasley told them they just missed Bill, who had to leave for work. With some prying, he confessed he was fine, but the wounds would not heal. He assured them that, as long as he took the Blood-Replenishing Potion each hour, he would be fine and the Healers were working on a cure. In a whisper, he told them about the others in the ward: a woman who wouldn’t say what bit her and a man bit by a werewolf. [B5, 487-489]  
“A werewolf?” Mrs. Weasley pulled Ginny closer to her as she peered around. “Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn’t he be in a private room?”  
“The full moon is a week away,” Siria said as Mr. Weasley said “It’s a week till full moon.” Mrs. Weasley reddened. Mr. Weasley continued that the Healers are doing what they can to persuade the man with the werewolf bite that he can live a rather normal life. When Mr. Weasley tried to tell him he knew a man that found the condition manageable, the man told him to shut up or he’d give Mr. Weasley another bite. [B5, 488-489]  
“You were guarding it, weren’t you?” George asked quietly (B5, 490). “The prophecy?”  
“George, be quiet!” Mrs. Weasley snapped (B5, 490).  
“Why can’t we just take it?” Siria asked. “It can’t possibly worth dying over.”  
“Nobody’s died, Siria,” Mr. Weasley said. “Thanks to you, we’re all fine.” Siria glanced to Ron, who had not met her eye, then George, then Fred.  
“If You-Know-Who heard the prophecy, why’s he sending a giant snake after it?” Fred asked.  
“That’s enough,” said Mrs. Weasley. She ushered them out under the pretense that Tonk and Mad-Eye wanted to talk with Mr. Weasley. [B5, 490]  
With Fred and George’s Extendable Ears, Fred, George, Ginny, Ron and Siria listened. There was silence, then they heard Sirius as clearly as if he was standing beside them. Tonks and Mad-Eye explained the snake wasn’t found. Mad-Eye speculated that Voldemort sent it to survey the area. Mrs. Weasley is rather uneasy about Siria having seen Mr. Weasley be attacked. Mad-Eye says Dumbledore seemed to expect it. “Obviously, Potter-Black doesn’t realise You-Know-Who is possessing her—” (B5, 491)  
Siria stiffened, rigid as a board. She felt the others eyes on her, but focused on the door as if she could not. “My daughter is not being possessed, Mad-Eye,” Sirius said.  
“You can call it what you like,” Mad-Eye said, “but if she’s poking into his head, he can poke into hers.”  
“‘E hasn’t yet though,” said Tonks. “Maybe it only works one way. Maybe the Killing Curse has that effect and no one knows ‘cause Siria’s the only one to survive.”  
“If only,” Siria thought. It certainly endeared her to Tonks for being so hopeful. She removed the Extendable Ear from her own, and placed it in George’s hand (B5, 491). He looked so torn between worried and scared. Siria stretched the corners of her mouth into a smile. Maybe they would be fine. Maybe it did work one way, as Tonks guessed.


	27. Christmas on the Closed Ward

**Christmas on the Closed Ward**   


AN: last week should be the only one w/o posts, at least for this book. I got sick then the Holiday hit. Back on track now <3

Small, twinkling lights filled the windows of Grimmauld Place. Some of the neighbors hung wreaths on their doors. The rusted streetlights managed to flicker on as the sun set early into the night. Thin patches of snow kissed the sidewalks and doorsteps.  
Most of the cars sprinkled down the street had more snow than the pavement. The only one without snow, was still on. A bright red Austin-Healey Sprite hummed in the quiet night. Its lights turned off as it went to sleep.  
Remus Lupin stepped out of the passenger side. He eyed the moon with the caution of approaching a beast. Only a sliver of the massive pale orb was in shadow. Remus swallowed and pulled the passenger seat forward, so Siria could step out. He offered his hand as she rose from the car. Sirius pressed his key fob twice and it locked then beeped.  
“Love that sound,” Sirius told them as he skipped to the step. Siria shook her head. She held Remus’s hand. As they walked, she looked up to him.  
“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” Siria asked. She moved her hand from his to his arm as they climbed the steps.  
“I’ll stay until afternoon,” he said vaguely. “The moon has been rising earlier, lately. You’ll see me the next day.”  
They entered Grimmauld Place with Sirius, but Siria didn’t release Remus’s arm. She shook her head at him. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Siria said. “All you’ve said is to dress warm.”  
“You’ll be adorable no matter what you wear,” Sirius said. Siria rolled her eyes. “Would you prefer elegant?” he asked.  
“How about tall?” Hermione called from the stairs. Siria let go of Remus’s arm. Hermione hurried down the stairs as Siria hurried up them. Even a step below Hermione, Siria was taller. She hugged Hermione and nuzzled against the top of her bushy, brown hair.  
“I thought you were skiing with your parents,” Siria said, loosening the hug just enough to see Hermione’s face.  
“I was, but I felt I’d be much more use here,” Hermione said. She whispered “I’m lousy. Don’t tell Ron.” Siria tightened the hug again before releasing Hermione.  
“Talk with me,” Siria said as they walked down the stairs. “Fill me in on everything.”  
“What about us?” Sirius asked with a smile from the entryway. Remus clapped a hand over Sirius’s shoulder.  
“Unless you want to tell me where we’re going, you can wait,” Siria told him.  
“That’d ruin the surprise.”  
“Later then,” she smiled and headed into the kitchen with Hermione. [B5, 498]  
“Naturally, Umbridge was livid you disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungos,” Hermione said (B5, 498). She paused as they sat down in the kitchen. “Cassius was worried, we all were, so I was really glad when you called him. I can’t believe the two of us don’t have a mirror though.”  
“We’re hardly ever apart,” Siria said. “I’m just glad I keep Cassius’s mirror in my pocket or I wouldn’t’ve been able to tell anyone.”  
Kreacher put a pot of tea down between the girls. Siria poured Hermione’s then her own. It was rose and sweetened with honey. Hermione eyed Siria over the cup, then put it down before taking a sip.  
“I’ve been doing a lot of reading,” Hermione confessed in the way someone would something important. Siria smirked. She sipped her tea and waited. “I don’t think you’re a Horcrux—” Siria coughed as she inhaled her tea “— no, I know you aren’t a Horcrux, not a real one, anyway.” Siria’s hand trembled as she clattered her cup onto its saucer. “Hear me out,” Hermione said. She placed her hand over Siria’s.  
“A Horcrux is the complete opposite of a human being,” Hermione explained. “If I ran you through with a knife, your body would hurt, but your soul would be fine. With a Horcrux, the fragment of a soul depends on its container for survival. Like Tom Riddle’s Diary, the piece of the soul will die if the container is damaged enough.” [B7, 104-105]  
“So, I don’t have to die, but I have to ditch my body?” Siria asked. “Doesn’t that sound like I’d need to use Dark Magic? I—” she paused at Hermione’s scrunched up nose.  
“You’re partly like a Horcrux because it really does seem you hold a piece of Voldemort’s soul. You’re not really a Horcrux though. A Horcrux isn’t just a container, it’s an object that’s been made evil. Siria, you’re a lot of things, but ‘evil’ never comes to mind,” Hermione said.  
“Usually, the only way to reverse the process and put the pieces back together is by feeling remorse, and it sounds really painful,” Hermione explained (B5, 105). “But that’s just the only way we know of.”  
“Are you proposing we make a way?” Siria asked.  
“I think there’s already a way. Think of all the foreign wizards Remus and Sirius have been writing to,” Hermione said. “Maybe other countries don’t call it a ‘Horcrux’ or the translation is done poorly. I’m not saying it will be easy, but we might be able to rip the piece of his soul from yours, trap it, then destroy it.”  
“We’ve certainly done risker things,” Siria supposed.

Christmas morning, Hermione woke Siria by scratching behind one of her sharp, hairy black ears. As Siria yawned she flashed from large dog to tall girl. She stretched out her hands and accepted the present Hermione put in them.  
“Merry Christmas,” Siria yawned. She pulled the wrappings off and squinted at the journal.  
“It’s a homework planner,” Hermione smiled. “They’ll come in handy once school starts back up.”  
“Yay,” Siria sighed. She put the homework planner down and picked up a small white Christmas bauble. A lovely silver ribbon ran through it. She rubbed her eyes as she smiled at the small emerald, embossed Christmas tree. Something scrapped the insides of the bauble. Siria popped off the top, and caught the small coin, as its long chain fell.  
The silver coin was smaller than a five pence piece, even with the piece that the chain ran through at the top. Siria raised it up and watched the piece spin on its chain. On one side, was Canis Major. A goldenrod was on the other… until it wasn’t. She stopped the coin and looked at where the goldenrod had been. Siria squinted at the small copy of the long constellation… Draco.  
“Two sides of the same coin,” Siria thought as she stroked the coin. She put the necklace on, with the one from Sirius, and continued onto the next gift. Hagrid gave her a tin a sweets, she knew better than to eat, and a furry, penny brown wallet with teeth; she imagined the teeth were an anti-theft device, but they prevented her from putting anything in too. [B5, 502]  
Remus gave her a set of books called Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts (B5, 501). Sirius gave her a velvet, pine green dress with white trim and a black belt. She felt like a green Father Christmas with it on. There were more clothes and a note that said he added more books to the shelf in her trunk. Chloe filled a four level jewelry box for Siria.  
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sent the usual hand knitted Weasley sweater and a tin of fudge. Siria pulled the jumper on over her dress. She pinned one of the brooches from the jewelry box Chloe gave her, a golden dragon with red eyes, to the front of her crimson sweater.  
Tonks gave Siria a working model Firebolt, small enough to fit in her hand (B5, 502). Even Hermione found it sweet. Dobby knitted Siria a pair of long stockings, one green with golden baubles and the other golden with green and red holly. Siria pulled them on to find they were within inches of each other. The skirt of her dress covered their uneven tops fine.  
Kreacher’s present caused Siria to laugh. It was full of coloured construction paper. The set came with a few markers. There was a little sun the corner of the package that had a cartoon smile and sunglasses. She would use it for their letters, as he intended.  
Siria started unwrapping Astoria’s gift when there was a loud crack, followed quickly by a second. She sighed and looked to Fred and George, who Apparated between Hermione and Siria’s bunk bed and Ginny’s. Their usual smiles were gone.  
“Merry Christmas,” George said. “Wait a minute before you head down,” he added as he dropped his voice.  
“Percy sent back his Christmas jumper,” Fred explained. He sat on the end of Ginny’s bed.  
“Without a note,” George added.  
“That—” Ginny swore.  
“We tried to tell mum that,” said Fred. He shrugged and looked to George.  
“Didn’t work,” said George. “Remus took over though.” George rapted his fingers on the metal of Siria’s bunk.  
“Remus’ll cheer her up some,” Siria said. She slid down the ladder. [B5, 502]  
“That or your Father Christmas outfit,” George gave a small smirk. “Not going to wear our gift?” Siria picked up the Father Christmas hat hanging on her bed.  
“Haven’t opened it,” Siria said as she pulled the hat on. She stuck out her hand, with the ring from her birthday. “And I’m not putting on anything else from you two until this comes off.”  
“It’s not hurting you,” said Fred.  
“You’ll thank us,” said George.

Chloe, Mundungus, Mad-Eye, and Kingsley Shacklebolt stopped by for Christmas lunch. After which, the Weasleys, Hermione, Siria and Sirius loaded into Remus’s van. Siria tugged on her Father Christmas hat as she straightened it. She ran her fingers over the row of bracelets on her left arm.  
“You’ve gotten quite a lot this year,” Sirius noted. “Anything from someone special?”  
“Well,” Siria leaned forward, to Hermione who sat across from her, and smiled, “I got a mini Firebolt from Tonks.” Sirius, who dropped the smile on his face, glanced sideways at Siria.  
“Who gave you that bracelet?” He asked and tapped the one made of multiple strands of small different colored beads.  
“Awkwardly, Lily Moon.” Sirius didn’t ask about the other bracelets or the necklace. Siria reached for the chain of the coin necklace. She paused and flattened the collar of her dress, as if it was her intention.  
She was relieved to reach St. Mungo’s, where the only questions would be about Mr. Weasley. Mr. Weasley was propped up on his pillows, downing the last few bites of his turkey dinner as they arrived at his bedside. He greeted them with a cautioned smile. Remus parted to talk with the lone man, who would turn today, for the first time since being bitten. Sirius steadied his hands on Siria’s shoulders, half to keep her with the Weasleys and half to stop himself from joining Remus, who would fair better alone. [B5, 506]  
“Oh, Siria—” Mr. Weasley saying her name snapped Siria’s attention away from Remus. “This is absolutely wonderful.” [B5, 506] He had just unwrapped her present of a flashlight and toy airplane. Mr. Weasley held the plane up. “Does it fly?”  
“Only with magic,” Siria smiled. He placed the plane down to click the flashlight on.  
“Marvelous little invention,” Mr. Weasley said. “Clever Muggles.” He reached to shake her hand, but pulled back at Mrs. Weasley’s leer. [B5, 506]  
“Arthur,” Mrs. Weasley hissed. “Why have your bandages been changed? They told me you wouldn’t need them changed until tomorrow.”  
“Well— now, Molly dear, don’t be upset,” Mr. Weasley started. Bill, Fred, and George pushed their chairs away from the bed. “Augustus Pye had an idea. The Trainee Healer, you know, very lovely young chap.” Mrs. Weasley’s face reddened while she glared at Mr. Weasley. Bill muttered something about tea, and Fred and George hurried to accompany him as Mr. Weasley continued, “He’s interested in… complementary medicine… I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies.” [B5, 407]  
Siria inched back, as Sirius did. Ron took a half step back. “Well, they’re called stitches, Molly, and they work very well on— on Muggle wounds…” Mr. Weasley said. Mrs. Weasley let out a half shriek, half snarl.  
“Do you mean to tell me,” Mrs. Weasley said, as her voice grew louder with each word and the others backed away further. “That you have been messing about with Muggle remedies?” [B5, 507] Ginny was halfway to the stairs when Ron, Hermione, Siria, and Sirius joined her. They heard Mrs. Weasley shout “What do you mean ‘that’s the general idea’?” [B5, 507]  
“Typical Dad,” Ginny shook her head and sighed as they continued down the corridor (B5, 507).  
“You know, stitches do work well on non-magical wounds,” Hermione said. “Something in the snake’s venom must dissolve them.” (B5, 507) Siria looked to Sirius, who nodded.  
“See you kiddoes in a minute,” Sirius said. He broke away and headed back toward Mr. Weasley’s ward.  
“Dudley got stitches once,” Siria said as they climbed the stairs. “Aunt Petunia screamed about scars for months, but it healed fine.” Hermione eyed Siria’s scar. “I’d guess mine is why she cried so much. Didn’t want Dudy-kins to be anything like Scary Ol’ Siria.”  
“Does anyone know where the tearoom is?” Hermione asked to change the topic. Siria smiled at her. [B5, 508]  
“Fifth floor,” Siria said (B5, 508), so they continued to climb. Portraits of past Healers hollered at them, claiming they were ill with something or another. A very animated Healer pushed portrait occupants out of the way to chase after Ron. He was convinced Ron had “spattergroit” and not freckles. [B5, 508]  
At the landing of the fourth floor, they paused in their tracks. Siria tugged Ron’s arm and pointed, wordlessly at the window in the door. A pair of dazzling white teeth, perfectly straight, smiled vacantly at them. It’s owner had shoulder length, wavy golden blonde hair and glazed over bright blue eyes.  
“Wah—” Ron startled and missed his step. Siria pulled him forward, before he fell.  
“Professor Lockhart,” Hermione said (B5, 509).  
“Not much of a Professor,” Siria muttered. Their ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher pushed the doors open and stepped toward them, his long lilac dressing down trailing behind him (B5, 509).  
“Well, hello there!” He beamed at them with as much charisma as ever. “I expect you’d like my autograph, would you?” (B5, 509). Ron and Siria exchanged a speaking glance.  
When Ron asked if Lockhart should be in a ward, a distant look fell onto Lockhart’s face. He froze for a moment as he focused on Siria.   
“Haven’t we met?” Lockhart asked (B5, 509).  
“Yeah,” Siria said as she eyed around him. She was relieved he couldn’t seem to properly place her. “Why don’t you show us to your ward?” She suggested. Lockhart was not as lost as when he first wiped his own memory, with Ron’s broken wand, but had clear issues focusing.  
At the far end of the corridor, a woman called out for Lockhart. She was a motherly looking Healer, with tinsel in her hair. The Healer came to collect him and dragged the others back as she spoke over their weak attempts to explain they were headed for tea (B5, 510).  
Lockhart’s ward showed signs of long term stays. Photos of himself were hung around his bed. Many of them had childish signings of his name. There was an open box of letters on the floor that poked out from under his bed. [B5, 511]  
Across the way from Lockhart was a mournful-looking wizard that stared at the ceiling and didn’t seem to notice their arrival. Beside him was a woman covered in fur. She had a small trinkets at her bedside. Floral curtains blocked the last stays of the ward and their guests. [B5, 511-512]  
Healer Strout explained Lockhart’s recovery. Any time Siria felt remotely sorry for him, she reminded herself Lockhart did it to himself while trying to wipe the memory of Ron, herself, and the twins. It helped when she added that he intended to leave Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets. Her stomach plummeted.  
If Lockhart had succeeded, Voldemort would have returned two years sooner. Siria’s throat seemed to collapse at the thought. How quickly would Voldemort have found her? With her memory gone, she wouldn’t even be able to identify him as Tom Riddle. She would have never been adopted by Sirius. Would so many from Slytherin have agreed to join Dumbledore’s Army? “There wouldn’t be one…” Siria realized.  
“— Longbottom,” Healer Strout said and Siria snapped back into the room, “are you leaving already?” Siria glanced to Ron and the others, to stop them from seeing. If they had gone off into their own heads, then they, like she, were pulled back by the name. Everyone else followed the Healer’s line of sight to Mrs. Longbottom and Neville. [B5, 512]  
“Neville!” Ron called. Neville jumped as though struck. “Neville, it’s us,” said Ron. “Have you seen?” Siria rushed herself to Ron’s side.  
“Mrs. Longbottom!” Siria said loud enough to convey to Ron now was not the time and Neville had definitely seen Lockhart. “It’s so good to see you.” Siria extended her hand to shake Mrs. Longbottom’s.  
“You as well. Neville speaks quite highly of you,” Mrs. Longbottom said.  
“Well, I can’t speak highly enough of him,” Siria said. She leaned her head slightly to the left. Hermione read it as a sign to come over. [B5, 513]  
“Ms. Granger,” Mrs. Longbottom shook Hermione’s hand. “I must thank you for looking after Neville. He’s a good boy, but he hasn’t got his father’s talent, I’m afraid to say…” she jerked her head in the direction of Alice and Frank Longbottom’s beds. [B5, 513]  
“I can’t speak to their talent,” Siria said, “but Neville is definitely beyond expectation in Herbology.” She glanced over her shoulder, where the Healer had placed a potted plant beside the man who stared at the ceiling.  
“Neville,” Siria said as she approached the plant. “What do you suppose this is?” Neville shook. Siria stopped. “I just meant, I’m sure you know how he can care for it.” Neville scooted toward Siria without lifting his feet. He glanced at the small potted plant from just behind her.  
“Well?” His grandmother asked with a wave of her hand, as though wanting the disappointment to be over with.  
“I… I think…” Neville stepped closer to the plant. “I…” he leaned over it. “It looks like Devil’s Snare,” Neville said so quietly they would have missed it if they weren’t so focused on him.  
“Merlin—” Healer Strout gasped. She swept past Neville and whipped the plant from the desk. “I can’t be sure, but” she smiled at Neville, “I’m so glad you said something, dear.”  
Alice Longbottom, waisted away compared to the photo of her in the Order, edged down the ward in her nightdress. She beckoned Neville and handed him an empty wrapper. The elder Mrs. Longbottom shook her head, but told Mrs. Longbottom “very nice, dear,” before telling Neville to toss it as he had more than enough to paper his bedroom by now. Siria watched Neville pocket it when his grandmother looked away. [B5, 514-515]  
The door of the ward closed behind the elder Mrs. Longbottom and Neville.  
“I didn’t know,” Ron said, rather hoarsely (B5, 515).  
“Nor me,” whispered Ginny (B5, 151).  
“I did,” Hermione dabbed at her eyes. “Moody told me, when he found out I was looking… looking around,” her gaze dropped to her feet.  
“Same,” Siria said, though she knew before. She learned in Dumbledore’s pensieve. “It’s why Barty Crouch, Jr. and Bellatrix Lestrange got sent to Azkaban.” They were silent as the severity weighed on them. [B5, 515]   
“Look,” Lockhart told them, “I didn’t learn joined-up writing for nothing, you know!” (B5, 515)


	28. Bathilda Bagshot

**Bathilda Bagshot**  


Quiet of the early morning hung on the still sleepy town. Snow tucked the little cottage houses in as blankets did their residents. Sunlight slipped into the sky of the early nautical dawn. Stars blinked within the darkness, slowly carrying off.  
CRACK.  
A violent purple, triple decker bus flashed into the sleepy village, right beside the church. Two benches leapt from their spots on the curb to avoid being hit. The conductor, a young man with a pimply face, stepped off as the doors opened. He did not offer a hand to the first gentleman, who looked more noble than ever with his lustrous dark hair perfectly together and in the long, black noblemen’s jacket he wore. Sirius Black glared across the graveyard, as though expecting unwanted company.  
The conductor didn’t extend his hand to the second gentleman either. His face was covered with recently closed cuts. He wore a worn tan hooded jacket. In the fraction of space between his gloves and jacket sleeve, there were more just closed cuts. There were heavy bags beneath his kind, wrinkled eyes. Remus Lupin scanned down the narrow road, but seemed satisfied.  
Remus nodded to Sirius then the bus. The conductor reached to extend his hand, but the other two gentlemen were quicker. They offered their hands to a teenage girl that laughed.  
“I can get off the Knight Bus,” she said as she hopped down the last step. “Honestly, dads,” and she stuck her tongue out at them. Her wild, jet black hair seemed unchanged by her leap. She tightened her gold and crimson scarf, then tucked her hands into her black jacket. Siria Potter-Black stood beside Sirius and looked back to the bus.  
An older woman stepped off. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled into a messy bun at the top of her head. The scarred gentleman offered her a hand, which she took. He looked away and let go the moment both of her feet were on the ground. Tonks glanced to Siria, who jerked her head away and pretended to have not seen.  
“See you, Stan,” Siria said. She locked arms with Sirius and beamed up at him.  
“Hope the paper writes nicer stuff ‘bout you, Siria,” Stan said as he stepped onto the bus. “See you later.” Sirius shook his head and led the party into the graveyard.  
Siria rubbed beneath her eye, careful not to smudge the basil green eyeliner around them. She combed her fingers through her bangs, which tangled themselves right back. Siria scratched at her right arm. It prinkled, like the scar on her forehead, but for different reasons. Her stomach got tighter with each step.  
“It’s fine,” Sirius assured her. “They love you,” he patted her arm. Siria sighed and glanced around the graveyard. Many of the graves had been cleaned off before last night’s snow.  
“I should’ve worn flats,” Siria said, “what if they think I’m too tall?”  
“You’re the perfect height,” Sirius smiled.  
“I should’ve worn the dress after all,” Siria said, “Chloe did my makeup for the dress, but I changed and—”  
“Siria,” Sirius said and stopped. “We’re here.”  
Her knees trembled into each other. She tightened her grip on Sirius’s arm. Siria glanced around. Tonks had stopped two rows away, but Remus was right beside her. He placed an arm around Siria’s shoulder. The white marble stone called to her.  
“James Potter” and “Lily Potter” with their birth and death dates were engraved into the almost shining white marble. At the bottom, the stone read “The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.” [B7, 328] Their birth and death dates kept repeating in her head.  
“They were only twenty-one,” Siria said. Her voice was so quiet, even she didn’t hear it. Six years older than her.  
“We wanted to take you over summer,” Sirius said. “We wanted to take you before then, even.”  
“It just never felt like a good time,” Remus confessed. “We couldn’t very well take you out of school for when we visit.”  
“When do you visit?” Siria asked.  
“On the anniversary,” said Sirius. “Lily used to love Halloween, you know, so we make them a jack-o-lantern. Once you’re out of school, we’ll come together.” He pulled her closer. “Last year there were at least twenty, and more seem to get carved every year.”  
“What if…” Siria blinked. She squeezed her eyes shut. “What happens when I die younger than they did?” Sirius and Remus glanced over her head, at each other, then to her.  
“You won’t,” said Sirius.  
“Siria, why would you think that?” Remus asked. She scoffed and shook her head.  
“I’m basically a Horcrux and I have to die, so someone else can beat Voldemort—” she started.  
“We’re working on that,” said Remus.  
“We’ll find another way,” Sirius said. “You’ll outlive us all,” he squeezed her arm.  
“But if I don’t—”  
“You will!” Sirius said. They stood, huddled in silence, before the grave.  
“Did you want to go back?” Remus asked Siria after a few minutes. “We can always come back. Godric’s Hollow will be here.” Siria shook her head.  
“What do you want to do?” Sirius asked.  
“Can I see it? The house?” Siria asked. Sirius nodded. Tonks trailed behind a few paces as they walked to the Potter’s old house.  
It was easy to spot. The hedges were overgrown and wild from their fourteen years without care. Snow blanketed the cottage and its ivy. While the cottage itself was mostly intact, part of the top floor was blown apart. Even though the ivy that had grown over it, it was easy to see. The spot plucked at Siria’s heart. That was where Voldemort’s Killing Curse failed. [B7, 332]  
“When you’re ready,” Sirius said, “touch the gate.” Siria could see no point in delaying it. She grabbed onto the thickly rusted gate (B7, 332). A sign rose from the ground, like a strange rapidly grown flower, it pushed through the weeds. Golden letters were carved into the sign.  
“On this spot, on the night of 31 October 2001, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their daughter, Siria, remains the only witch ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family (B7, 332-333).”  
Various people had carved their initials into the sign, or else written their names in Everlasting Ink. A few wrote small messages like “Long live Siria Potter” or small thanks yous. Beneath years of graffiti, Siria could make her mother’s name out of a message. Siria let go of the gate to hold the sign. There were bits of messages to James or Lily. Mostly apologizes.  
“Should we go meet them?” Siria asked Sirius and Remus, “Their friend?” She released the sign to link her arm through Sirius’s. He nodded. “Tonks,” Siria called over her shoulder as they walked along, “you can walk with us.”  
“I’s fine, ‘Ria, family matters and all,” said Tonks.  
“But you’re taking part of your Holiday to help look after me,” Siria said. Though she didn’t feel like she needed one chaperone, let alone three, it was because of Tonks they were able to visit Godric’s Hollow today.  
After several houses, Sirius turned them to a gate. The wrought iron made an elaborate “B”. Even in winter, the garden was beautiful. Pale, lavender and white violas were scattered through the edges of the garden. Patel yellow english primroses were clustered between other plants, which were bare in the snow. Just left of the garden path, a swing was hung on an old apple tree.  
“James hung that swing,” Remus told Siria. He smiled at it. “You loved it. Lily put you in her lap and you knew it was coming, so you’d start laughing.”  
“If we were lucky, Lily would jump off and you’d go wild,” said Sirius. “She’d almost fly, for moment and land softer than if she stepped off.” He paused and smiled at the swing like an old friend.  
“I used to love jumping off swings,” Siria said. “I suppose that’s why Snuffles got so excited when I did.”  
“It was like watching Lily.”  
The wooden door of the cottage opened. A small, thin woman, hunched over and covered in layers stood in the doorway. She beaconed them with her gloved fingers. Sirius led the way and Tonks followed at their rear.  
Stacks of books and magazines cluttered the cottage. A narrow path between the mountains of words twisted and turned to the living room. The woman hung her coat over a fuzzy armchair and sat down. Sirius and Remus sat with Siria between them on a fluffy blue sofa and Tonks took another fuzzy armchair.  
“Bathilda Bagshot,” Sirius gestured to the old woman. Her cheeks were maps made of wrinkles that filled when she smiled. Bathilda Bagshot’s eyes were glazed with cataract, but found Siria at once.  
“Sirius,” she said. Her voice was hoarse and quiet as though not often used. “I know Lily Potter.” Bathilda stuck her arms out and waved with her fingers. “Lily, dear, what has that fool of a husband done to your hair?”  
Siria glanced to Sirius, then the outstretched fingers. Sirius patted her on the back. She bit back a groan and rose up. The woman’s hands found Siria’s face. They trailed over Siria’s cheeks, around her eyes, and brought her close.  
“What new injustices have you seen?” Bathilda chuckled. “The yellow of your eyes is especially bright today, though it may just be mine growing old.”  
“You’re not that old,” Siria said. Bathilda laughed. She smoothed Siria’s cheek beneath her thumb then let go. Siria eased back into her spot, between Sirius and Remus.  
“Lily, dear, you know,” Bathilda said, “I found the letters we talked about last week. Don’t judge them too harshly. They were still boys.” Bathilda felt around the stand beside her chair until she found her wand.  
A worn, brown pocket file folder zoomed into the room. Siria eyed Sirius before she accepted it. Bathilda smiled. “It was such a shame,” Bathilda said, “he was so handsome… he just made all the wrong choices.”

Back at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, in the depths of her trunk, Siria rocked in a hammock with Bathilda Bagshot’s pocket file folder. Two young men, just older than Siria, stood beside each other. One looked sheepishly to the other, who smirked at Siria. He had a smug look, not unlike Malfoy, though Siria supposed they both were proud. Their postures were tall, like Sirius.  
Siria put the photo down. She rummaged through the letters on her stomach for the one that troubled her… well, the one that troubled her most. Seventeen-year-old Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald. The sweeter letters were private and, as Bathilda thought Siria was Lily, made Siria feel like Rita Skeeter. This one though…  
“Gellert,” young Dumbledore wrote the name with such care. The way he curved the “G” with such attention in a late night writing, showed care. Siria scanned the letter again “...power gives us the right to rule,” Dumbledore told Grindelwald. “We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD,” Siria put the letter against her chest and stared up at the ceiling. [B7, 357]  
Obviously, Dumbledore had a change of heart, Siria thought. She draped her arm over her eyes and squeezed them closed. Rather than the letters on the greatness of magic, Siria prefered the ones she knew she shouldn’t read, even if they hurt. They reminded her of the letters she wrote Lily Moon, but didn’t have childish, juvenile language about appearance. “I must confess the fire in your eyes devours my breath and I find myself longing for your warmth in the short hours we are apart,” Siria blushed at the letter. She folded it up as footsteps echoed into the trunk.  
“What are you doing still cooped up in here?” Hermione asked with a playful air. She tugged on the hammock, so it swung. Siria shifted to make room then helped Hermione in. “Who did you go see?”  
“My parents…” Siria said. “And my mum’s friend.”  
“Did she give you these?” Hermione asked and picked up the photograph. She cuddled up to Siria’s side.  
“She thinks she gave them to Lily,” Siria smiled at Hermione. “She asked what new injustices I’d seen and told me to stop letting James play with my hair.” Siria sighed a small laugh. “I can’t tell if her memory is great or terrible. She remembered to give me a crumpet recipe that Lily asked for, then remembered Lily and James died, that I was Siria ‘all grown up,’ and brought me a photo of my mother and I then called me Lily again.”  
“I’m sorry, Siria.”  
“It’s fine. Mostly I’m sorry I couldn’t help. Sirius says it happens sometimes, but is more common in Muggles,” Siria shrugged. “St. Mungo’s apparently doesn’t have a cure right now.”  
“Oh my,” Hermione smiled and picked up the photo. “Your mum’s friend is sending her handsome boys?” She gave a weak giggle. “They’re probably much—” she paused as she read the back of the photo. “Siria, who did you say you saw?”  
“Bathilda.”  
“Bagshot?”  
“Yeah,” Siria nodded. Hermione sat up in the hammock, which rocked it. Siria sat up to help Hermione stay steady.  
“Siria Potter-Black, you saw A History of Magic’s Bathilda Bagshot and only just told me?” Hermione asked. “Can you write her— oh,” Hermione sighed and looked at the front of the photograph. “I suppose she wouldn’t be able to remember, but… do you suppose you could write her, for me?”  
“For you, I’d write anyone,” Siria smiled. Hermione smacked her hand to Siria’s face. Siria laughed.  
“You’re a shameless flirt, I hope you know.”  
“You should read these letters, then,” Siria said as she pulled Hermione’s hand from her face. “Some of them make my poems look like a joke.”  
“You said your poems are a joke yourself,” Hermione shook her head. She picked up a few of the letters to scan over them. Her cheeks flushed with red. “I see. Well, they’ve certainly gone above ‘cute at mutton’. You know, I imagine Professor Dumbledore would like these back.”  
“When he mans up and looks me in the eye, I’ll consider,” Siria stuck her tongue out. “I’ll write Bathilda, whatever you want.”  
“I want the moon,” Hermione sighed, dismissive, but a smile peeked from the corner of her mouth.


	29. Occlumency

**Occlumency**   


On the last day of the Holiday, the Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, Siria and Remus went to collect Mr. Weasley from St. Mungo’s. Kreacher Apparated to inform Siria and Sirius of a visitor. Sirius read Siria’s face before asking Kreacher to repeat himself.  
“Kreacher said that Snape is at home,” Kreacher said. He shook his head at Sirius. “He is wanting a word with Mistress and says he is not be waiting.”  
“He better believe he’ll be waiting,” Siria said. “How dare he boss you around.”  
“Siria,” Sirius said, then looked to Kreacher. “Did Snape say why he needs Siria?”  
“Kreacher is told Snape does not need to explain Snape to house elves,” Kreacher spat.  
“I—” Sirius placed a hand on Siria’s shoulder.  
“I’ll finish with the Healer and we’ll go back together,” Sirius said. He headed past Siria, who glared at nothing in particular as Sirius stormed away.  
Siria knelt down, beside Kreacher’s ear. She glanced around, but the Weasley’s were naturally engaged with Mr. Weasley’s recovery. “Kreacher,” Siria whispered, “if you want, you can tell Snape he can bugger off because you’re a free elf.”  
“Kreacher told Snape he is no Black, half-blood he is too, and that Kreacher is not to be bossed,” Kreacher said with an air of pride. Siria smiled at him.  
Sirius returned to Siria’s side. He winked at her and placed a hand over his coat pocket. Siria nodded. She took Kreacher’s hand. Sirius waved to Remus.  
CRACK  
The sound was different than when one witnessed Apparition. As Siria was squeezed through a hamster tube, the usual crack got distorted. It was more like a pop, of the sound around her being broken. Then a crash as sound returned at Number Twelve and things came into focus.  
Snape glared at them, in the entryway of their home. Siria ran her arm through Sirius’s. She felt how ready he was to defend her, but she didn’t need it. Sirius glared back at Snape. [B5, 518]  
“To what do we owe this visit, sir?” Siria asked. She raised her head and glared into the cold, dark eyes that never seemed to see her.  
“I was supposed to see you alone, Potter-Black,” Snape said, a sneer forming.  
“I am her father,” Sirius said.  
“I am here on Dumbledore’s orders,” said Snape. His voice was a quiet buzz.  
“And why has Dumbledore graced us with a visit from you, sir?” Siria asked. She kept a firm grip on Sirius’s arm. He would not duel Snape with his off hand. [B5, 518]  
“The headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter-Black, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term,” said Snape. He paused to read the room. Siria placed her other hand on Sirius’s arm. “You will received private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?” [B5, 518-519]  
“Yes, sir,” Siria said. “Am I to expect you bringing word means you are to teach me?”  
“Yes.”(B5, 519)  
“Why can’t Dumbledore teach Siria?” Sirius asked. (B5, 519)  
“It’s fine,” Siria said. “I don’t want Dumbledore to teach me.” Sirius and Snape stopped glaring at the other to examine Siria. She kept herself as tall as she could make herself.  
“Sir, when is our first lesson?” Siria asked. Snape scanned her over before glaring at Sirius again.  
“Monday night, six o’clock,” Snape instructed. “If anyone asks, we’re reviewing your Independent Study Work.” Snape took a step forward, to push past them and leave. (B5, 519)  
“Wait a minute,” Sirius said. (B5, 519)  
“I am in rather a hurry, Black—” Snape started. (B5, 519)  
“Then I’ll be quick,” said Sirius, “if I hear you’re using these Occlumency lessons to harass Siria over who her parents are, you’ll have to answer to me.” (B5, 520)  
“How touching,” Snape scoffed. “Surely, you’ve noticed how much Potter-Black resembles her fathers?”  
“I have,” Sirius said proudly.  
“Then you’ll know she’s so arrogant that criticism bounces off,” Snape snapped. [B5, 519-520]  
Siria yanked Sirius’s arm as he reached for his wand. She cocked her head up and glared at Snape, who paused, mid-reach for his wand. “Good day, sir,” Siria said through gritted teeth. She took a step to the side and nodded at the door. Snape slammed it behind him.  
“What I wouldn’t give to jinx that bloody—” Sirius started the moment Siria let go of him. She pointed at him.  
“Swear jar,” Siria said.  
“We don’t have a swear jar,” Sirius said. Kreacher CRACKED then CRACKED again as he reappeared with a large mason jar. There was piece of construction paper that read “Suair jar” in marker. He handed the jar to Siria, who extended it to Sirius.  
“You can’t be serious,” he told her and shook his head at the jar. Siria extended it to the end of her reach. She gave it a light shake. Sirius clicked his tongue, but dropped in a knut. Siria arched an eyebrow at him. He sighed and dropped a Sickle. “I expect you to participate, young lady.”  
“I don’t expect to swear where I’ll get caught, old man,” Siria said. She handed the jar back to Kreacher, who Apparated away with the jar. “He’ll be keeping an ear out for you.”  
“You’re almost an adult, when you ought to be able to swear as much as you want,” Sirius argued.  
“What are you going to do with the grandkids?” Siria asked. “Swear a river.”  
“Grandkids?” Sirius asked. He looked more like a deer in headlights than a dog. Siria shrugged.  
“Yes.” She crossed her arms. “If I live through all this, I’m adopting every orphan this war causes— maybe more. Maybe I’ll turn Grimmauld Place into an orphanage, I don’t know, but I’m going to do something to help fix this mess.”  
“This isn’t your mess to clean,” Sirius told her. Siria shook her head.  
“You said Voldemort chose me, well, I’m choosing to face him and I’m choosing to make things better if I live,” Siria said.  
“You will,” he said. Siria rolled her eyes.  
“You don’t know that,” she told him. “It might not be next time or the time after that, even, but Voldemort could grow tired of wanting to kill me himself.” Without thought, she pulled at the necklaces around her neck. “He could promise a reward to his followers, for whoever brings him my head,” her fingers caressed the coin pendant. “Or take over the Ministry and have all the Wizarding World looking for me…” a small voice wondered from the depths of her mind.  
“Would it be the whole Wizarding World?” the wheels of something started to turn or maybe she just finally felt them.  
“Siria,” Sirius snapped and reached for her. She took a flexive step back. The pendants fell back down. “Where did you get that necklace?”  
“A… friend gave it to me,” she said. Her hand pressed over the pendants.  
“When?”  
“For Christmas.”  
“It wasn’t in your presents,” he said and took another step closer. “Hand it over, it could be cursed.”  
“Excuse you?” Siria said. “My friend isn’t trying to curse me!”  
“Yet” something whispered.  
“Then why did they hide it?” Sirius asked. “All of your things need to be vetted, Siria.”  
“Voldemort isn’t going to have a teenage boy send me a necklace,” Siria scoffed.  
“A boy gave it to you?” He asked. “That’s all the more reason to look, what if he jinxed it? What if it’s enchanted to make you fall for him?”  
“Do you hear yourself?” Siria asked. “You’re paranoid.”  
“If you’re so sure, hand it over,” and Sirius extended his hand. Siria clenched the necklace.  
“No.”  
Her form became the four legged, shaggy black dog she slept as. She bolted past Sirius, who changed a fraction after her. What should it matter is Malfoy sent her a necklace? It would though, to Sirius. “He’s the son of a Death Eater,” she could hear it already. “You saw him at the Ministry with his father,” she knew. In that windowless corridor.  
Siria paused. Sirius ran into her. She was knocked over. He pinned her down. Sirius bit her tail, enough to tell her she could not run, but not enough to hurt. The light prickle didn’t matter. Voldemort wanted into the Department of Mysteries— the prophecy was in the Department of Ministries. She growled back at Sirius and snapped.   
“Sirius!” Mrs. Weasley shrieked. Fred and George rushed to part Sirius and Siria, who returned to their human forms and stepped back. Siria threw her arm out to keep George back.  
“Siria Jessica Potter-Black,” Sirius said with each of her names clear through his gritted teeth. “You have no idea the lengths teenage boys will go to get a girl. Hand it over.”  
“No,” Siria said just as firmly. “I will promptly, kindly, and clearly reject him. You don’t get to inspect his gift for ‘curses’,” she placed the word in air quotes. “He isn’t like that,” she said.  
“Right now,” a small voice whispered.  
“It’s true,” Hermione cut in. “The person that gave it to Siria wouldn’t curse her…” Hermione bit her lips and Siria knew the small voice inside Hermione echoed her own.  
“Who is he then?” Sirius asked.  
“Is this how you’ll act when I date a boy?” Siria asked. “Assume he’s a monster? You didn’t have any problem with Lily Moon until she dumped me.”  
“Girls are different,” Sirius said.  
“They can be just as bad,” Hermione said. “Some sixth years were talking about how Love Potions are too complicated, ‘but it couldn’t hurt to try one’.”  
Sirius didn’t drop the topic until they stepped off the Knight Bus at Hogsmeade Station the next day. He kept insisting that she didn’t know boys and they could be very determined. “You were a boy!” Siria shouted at the station, to the shaking of Remus’s head.  
“That’s how I know,” Sirius said.  
“Maybe, then, teach people to be better instead of trying to teach me people are terrible,” Siria snapped. “I’ve got enough doubts about people without you adding to it.”  
“Alright,” Remus placed his hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “Siria, have a good term. We’ll call and expect to hear about your lessons.”  
“Yeah, whatever,” Siria sighed.  
“Eat good meals,” Remus said. Siria nodded. “You won’t be able to write us, as I don’t know when we’ll be where, but we’ll try to call around the same time on Saturday.”  
“Okay,” Siria brushed her bangs. She stared at the snowy ground, rather than either of them.  
“For as much as we may disagree with Snape,” Remus paused, “he is an accomplished Occlumens.”  
“Okay dad!” Siria snapped, “Remus,” she adjusted, “Remus and dad, whatever. Love you, bye.”

Outside of Snape’s door, just before six o’clock, Siria stroked the Dumbledore's Army Galleon. Cassius was starting lessons. Most of the D.A. probably arrived, but she was here. She knocked against the door with her head. Of all the places she could be…  
“Enter,” Snape ordered. Siria rolled her head back and entered Snape’s office. She closed the door behind her. Her eyes hovered on the handle as her heart fluttered with the urge to leave. Snape pointed at a chair, which Siria eased herself into. Siria said nothing. In silence, she returned his glare. [B5, 529]  
“Now, Occlumency, as you’ve read, is a branch of magic that seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence,” Snape told her. “The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency,” Snape continued without interruption. If she let him explain and insult her as much as he liked, they would be done in better time than if she defended herself or asked questions. [B5, 530]  
“As I am sure you remember,” Snape said in a voice that implied he thought otherwise, “eye contact is often essential in Legilimency.” He paused, either for effect or because he expected interruption. “The usual rules do not seem to apply with you, Potter-Black, and the Dark Lord. At times, when your mind is most relaxed, you share the Dark Lord’s thoughts and emotions. The headmaster thinks it inadvisable for this to continue and wishes for me to teach teach you how to close your mind.” [B5, 531]  
“Sir,” Siria said, though she wished she didn’t stop him. “Though I don’t enjoy the flashes into his mind, it saved Mr. Weasley’s life.”  
“At the price of the Dark Lord knowing you can peer into his mind,” Snape said. “It is only a matter of time before he manipulates you, unless you learn to close— your— mind.” [B5, 532-533]  
Snape pulled his wand from his pocket. Siria gripped the chair, but Snape turned from her. He approached Dumbledore’s Pensieve and placed three strands of silver memory into the basin. Siria closed her eyes. She breathed and put all her attention on it. Just breathing. [B5, 533]  
“Stand up, Potter-Black,” Snape said. “Ready your wand,” he said as Siria did so. “You may use your wand in any attempt to disarm me or defend yourself in anyway you can think of,” said Snape (B5, 533-534). “I am about to break into your mind.” Siria did not like this wording. She turned her foot, as if to brace a blow and focused on her wand.  
“I have been told that you show aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse,” Snape said and a flutter of a smile passed over his face that showed he was impressed despite himself. “You will find similar powers are needed for this,” Snape raised his wand. “Brace yourself, now… Legilimens!” [B5, 534]  
Snape and his office blinked from her vision. She was nine, in a tree, with Ripper barking at her and the Dursley’s laughing. She was falling. [B5, 534]  
Suddenly, her arm was in a cast and Uncle Vernon’s massive hand held her face. She screamed and was twelve. Siria glared into the eyes of Tom Riddle. Over or maybe under the red, hungry eyes, black disappointed ones flickered like a glare. The handsome young man’s face distorted with anger and curtains of greasy black hair.  
Lily Moon stole glances at Siria as they worked on their homework. She giggled as Siria leaned in. Their noses touched. Her beautiful, honey eyes squinted at Siria.  
Dudley screamed and something shattered. Then the kitchen trembled as Marge ranted. “No,” Siria thought, but it continued to play like a film.  
“It’s one of the basic rules of breeding,” Marge’s voice didn’t sound right over the rattling. “You see it all the time with dogs. If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup…Weak. Underbred.”(B3, 25, 27).  
The kitchen erupted into splinters. Like puzzle pieces, it fell apart. The dark, cold and damp office came into focus. Siria was on one knee, and breathless as though she sprinted up to Gryffindor Tower.  
Snape watched his shelves. He squinted at them and their jars. His cold eyes passed over Siria without taking her in. She hung her head. Siria ground her first into the floor. She had not pushed him out, he stopped.  
“Get up, Potter-Black,” Snape commanded. Siria took a breath then rose. She ran her hands over her braided hair. Her ears rang. “You do understand that each memory you grant the Dark Lord, you bestow a new weapon to be used against you, don’t you? If you cannot force me out, control what I see. Show me what you want me to see.”  
“I don’t want you to see anything!” Siria snapped, “sir.” She fixed the collar of her jacket. Her fingers brushed the cool silver chains around her neck.  
“Then force me out,” Snape said. In a flash, he waved his wand “Legilimens!”  
“What were you doing with Draco Malfoy?” Snape asked. Siria shrugged, but kept her eyes on the stone floor. He knocked her down, again. She wasn’t sure if she couldn’t stand while it happened or if she collapsed to her knees.  
“Probably threatening him or being threatened,” she lied. She fiddled with her boots, tugging on their laces like she expected they were loose. Siria felt Snape’s glare on the back of her neck.  
“It would be in your best interest to limit your time with him,” Snape said. Siria gritted her teeth.  
“Are we done here, sir?” Siria asked. She kept her gaze on the floor. “It is nearly curfew, after all.”  
“Since when do you care when curfew is, Potter-Black?” Snape asked. He did let her leave. Siria rushed out of the office. She swore every few steps, if not for the pain in her scar then for Snape’s audacity.  
Hermione and Ron waited for Siria in their usual spot by the fire. Siria squeezed into Hermione’s chair, rather than push the Creevey Brothers out of theirs.”That bad?” Hermione chuckled. Siria grumbled into Hermione’s hair. “Why don’t we go upstairs? You ought to clear your mind and lie down,” Hermione suggested.  
Siria dapped the balm Madam Pomfrey gave her on her scar. It dulled the pain some. Hermione sat on the floor beside Siria. “You have to clear your mind,” Hermione repeated. “It’s very weak right now, after getting attacked for so long.”  
“I’m trying,” Siria said. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. In. Who was Snape to say who she could be friends with? Out. Malfoy didn’t call her “pathetic”. In. Would he be okay to join the others? Out. They talked about waiting until after Easter. In.  
Happiness— no, elation. It was practically ecstasy. Her anger and frustrations were flushed out. She was happier than she had been in years. This was almost as good as that. It was better than the girl being dead. Yes. [B5, 541-542]  
“Gah!” Siria cried as she came to. Hermione stood over her, pillow raised to attack again. “What the heck, Hermione?”  
“You were laughing like a lunatic, Siria,” said Hermione. “What happened? What did you see?”  
“I didn’t,” said Siria. She paused. “I… I felt,” her hand clutched her shirt. “Something terrible’s happened; it’s great for Voldemort, whatever it is, it isn’t the prophecy and I’m obviously still alive.” Hermione scrunched her her nose. Siria forced a smile.  
“Just… let’s try to clear our minds.”


	30. Happy Thoughts

**Happy Thoughts**   


Ten photographs taunted Hermione, Ron, and Siria on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Nine wizards and a witch— Bellatrix Lestrange— laughed, sneered, or tapped on their photo beneath the headline “Mass Breakout From Azkaban: Ministry Fears Pettigrew is ‘Rallying Point’ for Old Death Eaters”. Siria tore the paper from Hermione, only thrust it back into her hands a second later. She took another piece of toast. [B5, 543-544]  
“I can’t today,” Siria said as she swept more toast into a napkin and stormed out of the Great Hall. She shook her head. Laughter from the Great Hall made her stomach turn. How could anyone laugh at a time like this? She shunted the door open. Myrtle peeked through her door before passing through it.  
Siria hung her bag on a stall door as she took a rubber ball from her pocket. She chucked the ball at the far wall and let it bounce back to her. The process continued with gritted teeth.  
“How could they?” Siria cried. “The Ministry,” she caught the ball and threw it with more force, “just sits— idly by while he rises from the shadows.” She chucked it again. “Meanwhile, he’s breaking into my mind and taking me over—” Siria squeezed the ball as though she could pop it like a small balloon. “Myrtle, I’m crazy. What could I possibly teach them that could matter…” Siria let out a bark of laughter, “I mean, what’s it going to matter what I teach? We’re children, ants to him.”  
“You’re not an ant,” Myrtle told her. “You’re the Girl Who Lived. What could be a greater stain on his record than you?”  
“I don’t know that being a stain is much better,” Siria tossed the ball absently in the air. “If I get the chance, I’m going to kill him.” Siria clenched the pastel blue rubber ball.  
“You don’t mean that,” Myrtle said. “You aren’t a murder.” Siria gazed over her glasses, at Myrtle.  
“What choice do I have?” Siria asked. She chucked the ball back at the far wall.  
“There’s always another way,” Myrtle said. Siria shook her head as she caught the ball.  
“Maybe there isn’t this time.”  
“You’re just thinking darkly,” Myrtle said. “Kenner said we need to think about happier things.” Siria bounced the ball to the wall and back without reply.  
“I suppose there is something I could teach them that might help.”

By Saturday, everyone caught wind of the Azkaban breakout. Umbridge putting Hagrid on on probation went around, but was hardly spoken of because of the breakout. Siria tossed the pale blue ball against a cold, slightly damp, wall in the Chamber of Secrets. It seemed to boil her blood more than calm it, but she was sick of naming things she loved to quell her temper.  
Myrtle giggled as she led someone near. Siria glanced to her watch. It was only noon. Lunch was still going on. Siria pocketed the ball. She whipped her Invisibility Cloak from her bag, pulled it over, then stepped behind the blackboard.  
The tall, pointed silhouette of Draco Malfoy came into view. Siria sighed as she pulled the Cloak off. She focused on the silvery material as if it would hide her shame at the over reaction. Who else would Myrtle laugh with? She only ever laughed with Siria or Malfoy. Siria stuffed the Cloak back into her bag and stepped out from behind the blackboard. Malfoy startled a half step back. Myrtle reached to steady him, though her arms went through and he shivered.  
“You’re early,” Siria said. Malfoy straightened himself up. He stared at the ceiling of the Chamber as he fixed his sweater collar.  
“The others have gotten twice the practice this week,” he said. “And Myrtle said you’re always early.”  
“I am…” Siria eyed Myrtle. Myrtle covered her mouth.  
“I’ll go guard the slide,” she giggled and flew through the ceiling. Siria’s stomach knotted.  
“Malfoy,” Siria said as Malfoy said “Siria.” They stood in silence. She scratched the back of her neck, which tugged at the necklaces.  
“You’re wearing it,” he said.  
“I,” Siria said, “I probably shouldn’t,” she said and hastened to remove the necklace.  
“No,” he said. “I mean, that’s the point of a necklace, isn’t it? To be worn.”  
“Yeah,” she paused with the chain held by her ears. Her cheeks hurt with blush. Siria pulled it the rest of the way off. She closed her eyes and took a breath.  
“Draco,” Siria said. It sounded weird in her voice, or maybe with how her voice shook like the outstretched hand. “I— you’re really clever and you can be kind,” she rose her head to face him, but his eyes were on the coin pendant. “Someone is going to fall head over heels for you… I just think it’s not me.”  
Malfoy nodded. He rubbed his nose, like it would wipe away the blush. They remained, mostly still, rooted in their spots. He started, but stopped before a full syllable made it out. Siria squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to steady her hand.  
“To be honest, I don’t think I expected to be rejected,” Malfoy said. “I thought I was subtle enough you’d just think I was charming or something.” Siria peaked at him. His gaze was on the ground before her boots. At the small distance between them. “I do like you.”  
“Thank you, but I still like Moon,” Siria said. He sighed and finally met her gaze. The flecks of blue weren’t visible in this light. Just cold silver, like the chain that shook in her hand.  
“I can’t promise to not try and sweep you off your feet when you finally get over her or your next,” he said, “but I get it. If she weren’t Muggleborn, I’d probably rather date Moon than myself.” Siria extended the chain further. “What am I going to do with that? Be reminding that you rejected me?” He scoffed. “Keep it, you…” but no insult came.  
Siria let the chain hang in the space between them. Malfoy tucked his hands in his pockets. She eased the necklace toward her. He clicked his tongue at her slowness. Siria pulled the necklace back on and tucked it into her Weasley sweater, with the one from Sirius. Malfoy kicked a loose stone. Siria rubbed at the back of her neck. An hour before the others arrived, and already so painfully awkward.  
“Now,” Siria clapped her hands together before Dumbledore’s Army. “With the Azkaban breakout, it’s safe to say that dementors aren’t on the Ministry’s leash anymore,” Siria said, “so we’re starting the Patronus Charm.” She smiled at the cheers of “yes” and “finally”. “The most important thing for a Patronus, is a happy memory,” Siria said.  
“Like Peter Pan?” Colin Creevey asked.  
“Kind of,” Siria said. “But more than imagining fighting pirates, it’s… getting your Hogwarts letter,” her eyes fell on Lily Moon. Siria forced them onto Ron’s face then continued around the Chamber. “It’s flying a broom, getting a challenging spell, something that makes you really happy.”  
With her wand pointed away from the group, Siria called “Expecto Patronum!” The brilliant string of blue light constellations took its wolflike shape. It circled Siria as it surveyed the others, then faded away. She had them practice the incantation together a few times.  
“Any questions?” Siria asked. She tapped her wand against her palm.  
“What do you think of?” Colin asked. Siria grinned. She caught Hermione’s eye. Hermione smiled back.  
“Sometimes I think about tackling a troll,” Siria said, “Hermione, Ron, something they’ve done or said that was funny, or something we did together that was great. Just now, it was actually signing my name ‘Potter-Black’ the first time, but I don’t expect most of you to have something like that.”  
“I have a question,” Zacharias Smith said. Siria pressed her lips together to stop herself from clicking her tongue and snapping back “of course you do.” She gritted her teeth into a smile. Smith pointed. “What is he doing here?”  
Alice Travers put her arm around Malfoy’s shoulder and glared at Smith. Malfoy, who stood in the back, behind Cassius, and between Patricia and Alice, raised his head. Siria tapped her wand against her palm again. She took a slow, focused breath.  
“He is here to learn, as I presume you are,” Siria said. She glared into Smith’s face. Some days, she wouldn’t mind someone dropping a club on him.  
“But he’s—” Smith began.  
“My cousin,” Alice snapped. “And anyone with a problem with my cousin has a problem with me.” Her hand shook on Malfoy’s shoulder.  
“Malfoy signed, same as you lot,” Siria said. “He’s as much Dumbledore’s Army as the rest of you.” Siria read Neville’s face. Neville caught her eye then glanced at his feet. “If there are no more questions about the Patronus Charm, please separate into rows. We’ll work on this the next few weeks. If anyone has trouble, I’ll try to find extra time to practice in smaller groups.”  
Neville’s face was screwed up in concentration. He was red and sweating by the time Siria reached him. Neville focused on the tip of his wand. An apologetic smile flickered over Siria’s face.  
“I’m sorry,” Siria whispered under calls of “Expecto Patronum” around the Chamber. “I knew you were only agreeing to let Malfoy in because you’re too nice to say ‘no’.” Neville stopped and let his wand fall to his side.  
“You were really tired last term,” Neville told his feet. “You work really hard on the D.A. meetings… you shouldn’t have to do more.”  
“Thank you,” Siria said. “May I?” She asked and gestured to his side. Neville nodded and took his position.  
Siria stood behind him. She left a breath between them as she lined him up. “Are you comfortable?” She asked. He shrugged. She stepped back. “Stand how it feels comfortable,” she told him. “That’s how I feel comfortable standing, but be loose or hunch your shoulders, whatever is best for you.” Siria waited until Neville nodded. “Do you remember when your uncle gave you that mimbulus mimbletonia?” Siria asked. He nodded. “Try thinking about that?”  
Neville shouted the incantation, then again, then again. He screwed up his face again. Siria put her hand over his. “What about Snape in your grandmum’s clothes?” Siria whispered. “Anything that makes you laugh or…” She grasped the air. “Something that makes you feel strong— no, empowered. Something you do or saw someone do that made you feel great.”  
Again, Neville shouted “Expecto Patronum!” Nothing. He tried again. Like a breath in the cold, a puff of silver vapor escaped his wand.  
“That was it!” Siria cheered. “Neville! Neville that was brilliant; that’s it!” She patted him on the shoulder. “Whatever you thought of, think of it again and remember you’re getting there. You can go happier too,” she smiled and watched Neville make vapor twice more before she moved on.  
“I don’t know how you do it,” Susan Bones told Siria when she came around. “Everyone talking about you all the time,” Susan clarified. Siria put on a smile.  
“They’ll stop,” Siria said. “They’ll forget about your family, but remember the Death Eaters.” Susan gave a small, half smile that said she wasn’t so sure. [B5, 550]  
The Daily Prophet article on the Azkaban breakout brought a twisted fame to family members of the victims. Their names were almost as common as Siria’s. Twice, Siria caught professors whispering to each other. They couldn’t talk in the staff room, where Umbridge might happen upon them. Professors couldn’t talk to students either, with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five, which forbid professors from providing information on anything other than their subject material. [B5, 549-551]  
Lee Jordan tried to tell Umbridge that Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five meant she couldn’t tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in her class. “Exploding Snap’s got nothing to do with Defense Against to Dark Arts, Professor!” Lee Jordan told her. He got lines. [B5, 551]  
“Didn’t you say you run warm?” Siria asked Lee Jordan. She eyed his gloves. He dodged her eye.  
“It’s chilly down here, though,” Lee said. Siria supposed. She glanced around and saw more than half the D.A. in gloves. Siria placed her hands to her cheeks. They were a little chilly.  
“Suppose I’m just being weird,” Siria smiled and continued around the Chamber. Why would people need gloves after detention with Umbridge? It was just lines.

“Pathetic,” Snape told Siria as he dragged her to her feet three weeks later. “Are you even trying, Potter-Black?”  
“Of course I am,” Siria said. She pried Snape’s hand from her arm. “I don’t know how to stop it. The voice is different than with the Imperius Curse. With the Curse, I hear someone telling me and my… I don’t know, my stubbornness tells me not to listen.” She tapped her head. “I don’t have you telling me what to do with Occlumency, you’re just there.”  
“Do you enjoy the Dark Lord penetrating your mind? Does it make you feel special to have this connection with him?” Snape asked. Siria rolled her eyes. “I asked you a question, Potter-Black.”  
“You asked two, sir,” Siria said. “No to both, and— I don’t approve of your choice of words, sir.”  
“Then repel me, so we can be done,” Snape said. Siria sighed. “Legilimens!”  
Uncle Vernon shouted. Curtains of greasy black hair flanked his face. He reached for Siria. Snape’s office came into focus, but she blinked and a hooked nose man raised his hand against a sobbing woman. The office returned. [B5, 592]  
“Did you mean to use a Shield Charm?” Snape asked. Siria paused. Snape adjusted his dark hair.  
“Yes?” She said. “Kind of.”  
“Well, do it again,” Snape commanded. The office disappeared and she was sobbing into Snuffles. Her right arm was paler than her left. It had only just gotten the cast off. Siria wanted to tell the girl that it was going to be alright. She tried to tell her no one would hurt her again, but that wasn’t true. [B5, 592]  
Snape’s office blurred before her. Siria wiped at the tear that burned her cheek. She wished she could hide behind her wild mane, but it was braided back. Instead she focused at the floor.  
“That will be all,” Snape said. Siria swept her bag off the floor. “Remember to clear your mind, Potter-Black.” She nodded and left. Siria rested her head against the cool corridor wall.  
“Clear your mind,” She scoffed. How was she supposed to do that? How could she clear her mind with Dumbledore’s Army, the Azkaban breakout, the extra Patronus lessons, Quidditch, that neither Sirius nor Remus turned up any good news about if she would have to die? Then there were O.W.L.s. “You’re turning into Hermione,” Siria told herself. “Worried about O.W.L.s.” she shook her head as she climbed the stairs. “You could die before results arrive.”  
“Potter-Black!” A girl called Siria. She was cute. Her hair was kinky, like Travers’s. She was smaller than Lily Moon and thin as a pencil. “Do you have plans for the Hogsmeade Visit?” the girl asked.  
“I do,” Siria said.  
“Oh…” she shuddered. “Of course you do,” she choked out a giggle and hurried away. Siria leaned over the staircase, to watch the girl hug her friends.  
“Oh…” Siria said. She clicked her tongue at herself. Her plans were hang around with Hermione, since Ron had a date with Olive. She scratched at the back of her neck and continued to climb. It was fine. She didn’t need to add snogging to what stopped her from clearing her mind… not that it wasn’t on her mind.  
“Heard you turned down Storm’s sister,” Cedric said in their next Patronus lesson. Siria squinted as she tried to remember. “I mean, it sounds like half the girls have asked you to Valentine's Day tea.”  
“Honestly, I’m this close,” Siria put her fingers a hair apart, “to just saying ‘yes’ to someone, so they stop.”  
“Must be nice,” Cedric smiled. “Cho and I are done, but no one’s asked me.”  
“Poor Ced’,” Siria said. “Maybe if your ex’s bestie stopped hexing people, you could date someone else.”  
“Cho’s not having people hexed,” said Cedric.  
“I think Cho’s none the wiser, but Edgecombe is absolutely hexing people,” Siria said. “Didn’t you hear about that poor third year, not that you’d date anyone that young.” She read her watch. “Later, Cedric,” and she blew the whistle to call attention.  
“Siria!” Dennis shouted. Siria turned with her wand raised. She dashed to Dennis, an ear to ear smile. “Did you see?” Dennis asked as Siria swept him up into a hug.  
“I did!” She ruffled up his mousey brown hair. “That was brilliant, Dennis !” She beamed as she put him down and they started at the spot his Patronus stood, just a moment ago.  
“It’s a wolf, just like you,” Dennis said. He rose up to the tips of his toes and Siria lowered her ear. “Doesn’t that mean I’ll be one too?”  
“I think so,” Siria whispered back. She hugged Dennis again. “I’m so proud of you; it’s a really difficult spell,” she reminded him before she continued around the room.  
“You’re terrible,” Siria heard Smith say across the Chamber. She turned on her heel and started toward them.  
“You’re even worse,” Malfoy told Smith. “At least I’ve got vapor to come out.”  
“Well, it’s dark down here,” Smith tried to argue. Siria covered her smile.  
“Then anything produced would be easier to see,” Malfoy said. He tightened his grip and more wisps of vapor released from his wand.  
“Potter-Black,” Smith called. Siria gave a wide smile that told Malfoy she’d heard them. “Show us the spell again.”  
“Please,” said Malfoy with a sideways glance to Smith.  
“Please,” Smith repeated, but rolled his eyes.


	31. The Beetle at Bay

**The Beetle at Bay**   


The Ministry of Magic issues an Amended Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four  
This states that:  
Media on the premise of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is subject to approval by the Hogwarts High Inquisitor. This includes, but is not limited to, textbooks, reference materials, and magazines. Any student in possession of unapproved media, may be asked to submit said media for review. Any student with banned material will be subject to disciplinary action.  
Hermione positively glowed at the tiny note beneath the advertisements. She folded up her Daily Prophet and scooped more eggs onto her plate. Again, Hermione patted the letter she received with her paper. Ron and Siria exchanged a look.  
“Are you—” Siria started, but Hermione did as well and plowed on when Siria stopped. “You’re meeting me in the Three Broomsticks around noon, right?” Hermione asked.  
“Yeah,” Siria said, “but why aren’t we going around today?”  
“It’s Valentine’s Day, Siria, how do you not have a date?” Hermione asked. Ron and Siria looked to Hermione.  
“Do you have a date?” Ron asked.  
“Not quite like your date with Olive Foster,” Hermione said. An air of ice in her reply.  
“Wait,” Siria cut into their pause, “neither of you are hanging out with me?”  
“You’re not going around with Hermione?” Ron asked over Hermione’s “You didn’t make plans with Ron?” The two locked eyes in a moment of shared horror.  
“You can hang with me an’ Olive,” Ron said.  
“Nonsense,” Hermione said. “You can come with me to see— the village,” Hermione quickly adjusted. Siria sighed.  
“You know, I have other friends. I think I’ll hang with them, ‘until noon’,” Siria tsked.  
As they waited for Filch to check their names, Hermione and Ron took turns urging Siria to third wheel. Hermione even proposed Siria meet with Cassius and Alice, who would join her around noon as well. Ron tried to shift the subject to what Siria dropped when they crossed the grounds, but she ignored him. Siria crossed her arms and stared, absently down the line. Someone waved and caught her attention. Cedric smiled. Siria returned it. “You know, I’ll be fine,” Siria told them. “I have other friends,” Siria stuck out her tongue and joined Cedric, a few clusters of people down the line.   
“Mind if I join you?” Siria asked Cedric, Benjamin Wilkins, and Gilbert Snow. Wilkins grinned at Snow.  
“Sure,” Snow said. “We were just talking about how sorry we were to leave Ced alone.”  
“We’ll leave him in your care,” Wilkins said. Siria mirror their smiles, but had her suspicions.  
One of Siria’s favorite things about Cedric was how like Hermione he was. They talked about Transfiguration on their way to Hogsmeade. Wilkins and Snow were also at N.E.W.T. level and jumped in like they were skipping rope. “I’m telling you,” said Snow, “changing your own hair is a lot more work than you let on.” He left with Wilkin when two sixth year girls waved to them.  
“Let me be honest,” Cedric said after he and Siria walked down to the clearing where the Shrieking Shack was visible. “I only came to the village to get out of the castle. My N.E.W.T.s are around the corner and, hard worker though I may be, I need a break.”  
“What?” Siria gasped in mock surprise. “What kind of Hufflepuff doesn’t work hard every single second of their life?”  
“I know,” he said. “It’s like a Gryffindor that doesn’t battle basilisks every day, unheard of. I may be ill.”  
“Let me see,” Siria said and placed her wrist against his forehead. “My word!” She pulled her wrist back, as though burned. “Diggory, I don’t know how to tell you this…”  
“Give it to me straight, Healer Potter-Black,” he hung his hand in play sorrow. “I’m not going to make it, am I?”  
“Diggory,” Siria placed her hand on his shoulder, “you’re dying. You’ve got, maybe a few decades.” They laughed.  
A bitter smiled crossed Siria’s face. “Cedric, if you were dying, what would you do?” she asked. Cedric took a heavy breath.  
“Suppose I would want my friends and family to be at peace with it,” he said. “Let them know I was accepting it with grace and make sure they would continue on with their lives.”  
“That’s an awfully serious answer,” Siria said.  
“From you, it’s an awfully serious question,” he said. “What will you do, if we can’t find another way?” Siria shrugged.  
“I don’t know, but I’m tired of living like Death is about to catch me.”  
Cedric reached for Siria’s hand. She eyed it like anything George or Fred offered her these days. He smirked then closed and opened his hand, to beckon hers. She tsked, but held it. Cedric turned her hand to check her watch.  
“For the next hour, you’re just a girl, dodging her studying and I’m just a boy, doing the same,” Cedric said. Siria rolled her eyes, but let him lead the way back to the village. They walked through some of the shops, avoiding choice ones that he frequented with Cho and the craft store Siria visited with Lily Moon.  
Just before noon, they squeezed into The Three Broomsticks. Siria squinted around, at the tables. “Hermione did say afternoon,” Cedric said.  
“Cassius is here though,” Siria said. She knew he was, though didn’t know how. Cedric and Siria stepped further in. Cassius stood up to flag them over.  
“Told you,” Siria said as she and Cedric sat down. Cassius grinned at Alice.  
“Did you know we were here?” Alice asked. Siria nodded. “Cass swore you were too.” She turned to peer through the ribbons of pink, at the door. “Still can’t see anyone,” she sighed.  
Hermione joined with Luna Lovegood, who slightly more believable company than Rita Skeeter. Rita’s ringlets were messy and loose. There were gems missing from her glasses and fake nails. Her foundation clumped around the corners of her mouth and eyes. She cocked her head up as she eyed the table. Cedric put his arm around the back of Siria’s chair. Siria clenched her jaw; she didn’t need to be protected from Rita Skeeter. (B5, 565)  
“Cassius, you know why I asked you here,” Hermione said, “Siria, I’d like you and Cassius to recount the graveyard to Rita.”  
“What?” Rita asked. Siria locked eyes with Hermione.  
“We did for Lumos,” Siria mouthed. Hermione nodded.  
“Luna’s father has agreed to publish the interview in the Quibbler—” Hermione continued.  
“The Quibbler?” asked Rita, “I could manure my garden with the contents of that rag.”  
“Here’s your chance to raise their quality,” Hermione said.  
“If you think people think they’re nutters now, wait until they appear beside Hippocauldrons and Crummy Boar Sneezes,” Rita said.  
“Crumple-Horned Snorkacks,” Luna corrected. [B5, 568]  
“Rita, do you want the deal or not?” Hermione asked. Rita paused. She surveyed Hermione.  
“You hadn’t said anything about a deal, missy,” said Rita.  
“After the interview is published, on the condition you don’t write or say anything that contradicts it or paints it in a poor light, you may,” Hermione sighed and looked to Siria, to say she did not want to make this deal. “You may pick your quill back up, and I won’t tell anyone about the beetle.”  
The taloned red nails of Rita Skeeter ripped open her handbag. She held her quill above the parchment. A glint of hunger that turned Siria’s stomach flickered in Rita’s eyes. Her interview process was completely different than Cedric’s or Hermione’s. Rita was focused and relentless.  
“And their names?” Rita asked. Siria took Hermione’s hand and looked to Alice.  
“No,” Siria said. Cassius looked to Siria, who changed to meet his eye. “Some of them have kids we go to school with.”  
“P.B.,” Cassius said.  
“People are more than their parents,” Siria argued.  
“We are,” Alice said. She reached across the table and took Siria’s free hand. “P.B., name them. Make the world question and watch them, so they can be caught before someone gets hurt again.”  
Luna’s father expected an article on Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, so the interview was scheduled for the following issue. It was all the better for Siria. The longer the article took to be published, the more time she had to focus on Dumbledore’s Army, Occlumency, and procrastinating an unwanted conversation. [B5, 570]

While Siria made little progress in Occlumency, Dumbledore’s Army moved onto Dueling. Once a week, Siria held lessons specifically for those still having trouble with the Patronus Charm in the Chamber of Secrets. She paced down the line of thirty some odd other students that had yet to master the Charm, Hermione among them.  
“It’s the only spell that gives me trouble,” Hermione said. “It’s ridiculous,” she told Siria as the silver-blue curtain dissipated.  
“You’ve got to have a happy enough memory for it,” Siria said. “What about when you got a hundred and twenty percent on the Charms final?” Hermione clicked her tongue. Siria placed her lips beside Hermione’s ear. “The beetle in the jar?” Hermione rolled her eyes. Siria pulled back and shrugged. “‘Mione, you’re brilliant, and, as long as you’re with me, you don’t need to cast a Patronus. I’ll cast one strong enough for both of us.”  
Siria pointed her wand. She closed her eyes and thought about Hermione. “Expecto Patronum!” Siria called as she opened her eyes. The usual stary blue wolf formed from her wand. Another beside it. Siria smiled at Hermione.  
“Did you know the Patronus Charm can be used to pass on messages?” Hermione asked. Siria pressed her lips in a pout.  
“Well, you have to be able to cast it to pass a message,” Siria said. She stared at the two wolves as they dissolved. “Maybe Flitwick could tell me how.”  
“For academic purposes, of course,” Hermione smiled.  
“I mean, McGonagall was willing to tell us ‘for academic purposes’,” Siria said. Hermione shook her head.  
“Have you had any luck with the Bridge Summoning Charm?” Hermione asked. “I’ve got most of the others down, but my bridges are so small or made of rope.”  
“Braggot,” Siria said. “I still can’t make a bridge, of anything. Still, Transfiguration is probably the only O.W.L. I’m not too worried about.”  
“You’re joking,” Hermione gestured around the Chamber, to the thirty or so others practicing. Siria shrugged.  
“Obviously, I’ll do okay in the practical, but it’s not like they’ll be dueling us to see how capable we are against Dark Wizards,” Siria said. “Besides, what if the pen and paper part asks things we haven’t covered because of all teacher changes? What if something fell through the cracks?”  
Myrtle screamed from the ceiling of Chamber. She flew toward Siria, shouting “Umbridge knows!” Siria amplified her voice.  
“Cool it!” She shouted to call attention. Siria tapped her throat with her wand and returned her voice. “Myrtle— thank you,” she added. Myrtle nodded. She adjusted her ghostly glasses and flew back through the ceiling.  
Siria summoned a stool to her and stepped on it, not that she needed any help being seen. “Everyone be calm. An escape route has been prepared for such a thing,” Siria said. “Hermione, Ron, open the passage and lead people out. Alice, Cassius, help me clean out. Everyone else, single file line at the feet, okay?”  
As people followed her instructions, Astoria hurried up to Siria. “What can I do?” Astoria asked. Siria leaned to Astoria's eye level.  
“More than anything, I need you to get Brewer, Greyson, Franklin , and yourself away from here,” Siria said. Malfoy headed toward Siria. “Get Malfoy out too,” Siria said. “Slytherins’ll be in the most trouble with their families if they get caught.” Astoria puffed her cheeks out, but sighed and deflated.  
“Only because it means you’ll worry less,” Astoria said. She grabbed Malfoy’s wrist as he approached. Malfoy looked to Siria.  
“Go!” She told him.  
Siria dashed toward the end of the slide. She wrote around the ring of the slide with her finger. “[Close]” Siria whispered in Korean and hoped it worked. The Hedera Meridiem along the walls ravelled into a ball of string at the end of Siria’s wand as she ran back to the Chamber.  
Alice and Cassius had strunk the blackboard, medicine cabinet, mats, and miscellaneous classroom items down to palm size. They and Siria moved the basilisk remains to the middle of the Chamber. Siria stepped into the stairwell last. She scanned the room, which looked so much like it did when she practiced there last year, and nodded. Siria tucked her wand into her jacket. She gestured, seemingly wildly with her hands, as the passage closed seamlessly.  
Most of Dumbledore’s Army had escaped from the kitchens by the time Siria climbed out of the trapdoor. She pulled the tile back in place. “[Close]” she wrote. It looked no different than any other.  
Hermione was surrounded by house elves. They seated her in the throne-like chair and served her second tea. She smiled at them, but, like the furrow in her brow, it was strained. Her shoulders loosened when she saw Siria.  
Ron inhaled another eclair. He waved from Hermione’s side. As she, Alice, and Cassius walked over, Siria took the Marauder's Map from her pocket. She placed it on the table. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” she told the Map. Ink broke out and formed the school.  
“Umbridge and Filch are in Myrtle’s bathroom,” Siria said. “She’s not going to be able to open the passage though.” Alice tugged lightly on the Map to look closer as she leaned over.  
“Where do you think the little snake will be?” Alice asked. “Daphne and Bulstrode are in the library. Astoria, Jeanie, Leah and Ren are already walking the grounds…” she dropped to a mutter as she continued to scour the map for Slytherins. Cassius pulled a tray of sandwiches over.  
“There’s a chance that, whoever it was, is going about their day like usual,” said Hermione. She still dropped her nose the parchment, to inspect the Hospital Wing.  
“That would mean your jinx didn’t work,” Siria said.  
“Got it!” Alice said. “Edgecombe’s in Umbridge’s office.”  
“Fudge is in Dumbledore’s,” Siria breathed. She sighed in her chair. “They won’t get in,” Siria said while she focused on Umbridge and Filch, in Myrtle’s bathroom. “But it means we have to extra careful in the Room, cut back on lessons, use smaller groups.”  
“Make sure Edgecombe’s punished,” Alice added to Siria’s list.  
“She will be,” said Hermione, “if she hasn’t already.”


	32. Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six

**Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six**   


Students were crowded around the Gryffindor noticeboard the next morning. Siria peered over their heads. A large, framed notice hung over the usual flyers. “Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six,” Siria read to Hermione, “Umbridge has banned all ‘Student Organisations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs’, which she defines as ‘a regular meeting of three or more students’.” Siria clicked her tongue “Umbridge can let people reform, and anyone in an unapproved group will be expelled.” [B5, 351-352]  
Siria paused and bit her lip. She put her hands in her pockets and felt the chill of the mirrors. The others were waiting for her. “Hermione…” Siria said, “I think I’ve just been banned from Quidditch.”  
“What?” Hermione asked. She stood on the tips of her toes to squint at the notice. Siria sighed.  
“Based on disciplinary record or as a disciplinary action, a student may be banned from joining student organisations, societies, teams, groups, and/or clubs,” Siria read.  
The mirrors in Siria’s pockets chilled her fingers as she clenched them. She eyed Hermione. “The others have seen,” Siria said. They hurried up the stairs to their dorm. Hermione took a mirror as Siria flicked open two others. Bianca Storm, Cedric Diggory, and Cassius Warrington peered through the mirrors and started about the new decree.  
“We saw,” Siria said. “We’ll lay low for a week, then start up in small lessons, arranged by mirror.”  
“Until we find out how much Umbridge knows, assume only the mirrors are safe,” Hermione said.  
“And only in the evenings,” Storm said. “Assume she knows we’re communicating and may ask we turn out our bags.”  
“We’ll make sure no one approaches you about the D.A.,” said Cedric. “Go about today like usual.”  
“As usual as you can,” said Cassius. Hermione and Siria shared a look.  
“Same to you lot,” said Siria. They closed their mirrors. Siria put them in her trunk and turned the star dial, so its actual proportions would be found if anyone opened it.  
When Hermione opened their dorm door, they saw the stairs had flattened into a slide. She eyed Siria over her shoulder. “Maybe Colin or Dennis wanted to make sure we saw?” Hermione suggested. Siria shrugged.  
“Not them,” Siria said, “I told them it’d do that.” Hermione slid down, with Siria behind her.  
“How come you can get into my dorm?” Ron asked when Hermione and Siria arrived at the bottom.  
“The founders were as suspicious of boys as Sirius,” Siria said. “Seen the notice?”  
“I was going up to tell you about it,” said Ron. He stepped beside Siria. “What are we going to do?”  
“Learn to sneak around better,” Siria whispered back. (B5, 353)  
They headed to breakfast as nonchalantly as they could. Any time a D.A. member got close, Hermione, Ron, or Siria would lock eyes with them and subtly shake their head. Angelina Johnson caught them at lunch. She took up the seat across from Hermione, Ron, and Siria.  
“She’s banned the Gryffindor Team!” Angelina said. There was a hearty mix of outrage and despair in her voice.  
“McGonagall’ll get it overturned or something,” said Ron.  
“And how long until Umbridge makes a decree that says other teachers can’t go over her head or contradict her?” Hermione asked.  
“Angelina,” Siria said, “even if you get the team reformed, didn’t you see the bit about students being banned in general? There’s no way Umbridge would let you reform with me on the team, especially after—” she looked to Hermione and sighed.  
“Siria, what did you do?” Angelina leaned over the table. “Aside from,” and she mouthed “the D.A.”  
“It might not amount to anything,” Siria grumbled at the table. She slid some shepards pie onto her plate, so she didn’t have to look at Angelina.  
“Where am I going to get another Seeker?” Angelina hissed. “Let alone one half as good as you,” she shook her head. “Honestly, it better be worth Gryffindor’s loss of the Cup,” Angelina said and stomped away from the table. [B5, 355]  
“Quidditch, Hermione,” Siria said. She let the food drop from her fork, back onto her plate. “She put you in detention, put Hagrid on probation— even though he’s been teaching better this year—, and now she’s taken Quidditch from me. If it weren’t for Kreacher being able to deliver mail, I’d drop a bridge on that little toad.”  
“You’d be doing everyone a favor,” Ron said.  
“Don’t be silly, Ron,” Hermione said as she picked at Siria’s mixed vegetables. “The best I can make is a rope bridge and that certainly wouldn’t be much help at squashing her.”

With the Gryffindor Quidditch Team still banned, they couldn’t play on Saturday. Instead, the reinstated Slytherin Team flattened the reinstated Ravenclaws by two hundred and ten points. Part of Siria was sorry to miss it. She was even more sorry when she met Malfoy in an empty classroom just off the Hall of Hexes.  
“But of course, you saw,” Malfoy finished his recount of how he caught the Snitch right under Cho’s nose. “I wish Crabbe or Goyle hit her with a Bludger, after her friend sold us out— what are you smiling about?”  
“Nothing,” Siria shook her head. “Anyways, I…” she sighed and smile fell. “I actually didn’t see.”  
“Why not?” He asked. “Did you sneeze or something? There’s a cold going around,” he took a step back.  
“I was in the Room,” Siria said. “I met with what’s left of the D.A. I’d’ve told you, but the match was perfect cover and Umbridge thinks you’d sell me out in a heartbeat.”  
“How much is left?” Malfoy asked. He pointed his wand at one of the dusty desks. It became clean and shiny. He sat on it.  
“About half,” Siria said. “Just about all the older students and Slytherins are gone, except for maybe you and Cassius and them.”  
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Malfoy said. She nodded at the floor.  
“It was so defeating to walk in and see so few people,” she said. “I knew Cedric had to be at the match, but two of his friends have left. Storm won’t tell, but she’ll only meet if it’s one-on-one with me and I can’t very well do that with everyone.”  
“How are you organising the lessons?” Malfoy asked. He swung his leg back and forth, under the desk. Siria rummaged through her pockets and pulled out a cool, metallic silver compact. She handed it to him. He eyed the mirror, then turned it over to look at the barcode. “Is it safe to use the same system? What if someone peels off the sticker?”  
“If we did it right, the sticker will only come off when someone leaves the D.A.,” Siria said. She leaned against him and the desk he sat on.  
“What if I’m just being cocky?” Siria asked. “Voldemort,” she ignored the small jerk of his head, “and the Death Eaters have years of experience and magic we would never think to touch on their side. Sure, they and all the greats started as students like us, but how do you beat decades of experience?”  
“Aren’t you always saying the Dark Arts are always changing?” He asked. “I’d think we just have to be more adaptable than they are.” Siria smiled. She looked up at the ceiling and knocked the back of her head against his. “You’re no Hermione, but you’re not half bad, Malfoy.”  
“Yes, well… thanks.”

Sunday morning, the remains of Dumbledore’s Army collected in the Room of Requirement. Siria nodded to them as she scanned over the thirty or so students that remained.  
Daphne made it clear to Siria that she, Millicent, Astoria, and Astoria’s friends would not risk being caught. Olive Foster and her friends left “there’s so little time left before exams,” she told them; it was also what she told Ron when they broke up the previous week.  
Cassius’s friends and Malfoy were the only Slytherins left. Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Padma Patil, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Luna Lovegood, remained from Ravenclaw. Of Cedric’s friends, only Benjamin Wilkins and Gilbert Snow remained in the D.A. Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones, and Lily Moon of Hufflepuff also stayed.  
Siria was most disheartened by the drop of Gryffindors, though she smiled at those who remained. The Creevey brothers, who Siria knew would follow her anywhere, stayed. Dean Thomas, Fay Dunbar, Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom, Parvati Patil, and Seamus Finnigan, all from Siria’s year and House remained. Lee Jordan and Ginny Weasley also stood before Siria, in the Room of Requirement, waiting to hear how things would continue.  
“Welcome,” Siria said. She clapped her hands together as she let out the breath she didn’t know she held. “There are going to be some changes in the D.A., safety precautions, but, more than anything, I’ll be assigning homework of sorts.”  
“Boo,” Fred called playfully.  
“Worst club ever,” George joked. Siria tilted her head slightly to the side and stared at them.  
“I wrote up a study guide for every spell we’ve covered,” Siria said. “It’s also got a list of spells Death Eaters have been known to use, what they look like, and how best combat them, if there is a documented way.”  
Siria turned to a table behind her that had thirty some odd identical stacks of bound parchment. She, Cassius, Alice, and Hermione passed them around until everyone had one. She fanned through her copy. “It’s review until page thirty six, then,” Siria smiled. “If you’d all place your wand on your stack, like so,” Siria demonstrated. The tip of her wand sat on the middle of her parchment stack. “Long live,” she said and they repeated.  
“What is this?” Terry Boot asked. “It’s like a mash of subject notes,” he said. Siria’s smile widened.  
“That’s exactly what it is. That’ll turn your books into a collection of excerpts from Ministry approved material— so the Slinkhard book, our Transfiguration books, the Magical Herbs and Fungi, and so on,” Siria explained.  
“How do we get the guide back?” Hannah Abbott asked.  
“I solemnly swear to choose what is right over what is easy,” she waited as they repeated. Siria stole a glance to Hermione, who nodded as she watched people flip through their revealed guides.  
“Did Hermione do this?” Terry Boot asked. Siria took a half step in Hermione’s direction, which blocked Boot’s vision.  
“More or less,” Siria said.  
“Siria, don’t be so modest,” Hermione said. She peered around Siria’s arm. “Siria did most of it herself.”  
“How did the Sorting Hat put you both in Ravenclaw?” He asked.  
“They’re more brave fools than they are closet nerds,” Malfoy answered. Siria cocked her head up a bit. Her nose wrinkled and wanted to say Hermione was definitely out as a nerd, but continued instead.  
“Anyways,” Siria said with a roll of her eyes. “The last page has the code for who is when. We’re going to be doing groups, on rotation, and by House,” Siria explained. “It’s less suspicious, unfortunately, if people of the same House happen to ‘run into each other’ and go the same way or are hanging about.”  
D.A. members asked their questions about what they would be learning next and how best to practice. They left in small groups, staggered by how long it took the previous group to reach their destination on the Marauder's Map. Malfoy hung back, at Siria’s request.  
“I’ve been putting off telling you,” Siria said, “because I didn’t know how you’d react.”  
“That’s hardly fair,” Malfoy said, though there was a small, sad smile in the corner of his mouth. She nodded at the ground. Siria took a breath and raised her gaze to his eyes.  
“I gave another interview about what happened in the graveyard,” she said much quicker than she meant to, but with the same sense of purpose she hoped for. “In it, I named your father as one of the Death Eaters in the graveyard.”  
A shadow crossed over Malfoy’s face. His possibly playful, curious expression became guarded. He rose his head higher, though he was still shorter than Siria.  
“And why would you do that?” Malfoy asked in his old, cool drawl. Siria considered saying that Alice convinced her to, but took a breath.  
“It’s the truth,” Siria said, “you know I’m a terrible liar.” A bitter smile met a snarl on his face. Siria reached to cross her arms, but shifted and tucked them into her pockets.  
“Boot wanted to know why you aren’t in Ravenclaw, but the better question is how you’re not in Slytherin,” he said. “You’re cunning, a halfblood, ambitious, and you hate being told what to do.”  
“I’d also fall on my sword to save Hermione,” Siria said.  
“You would have only seen her in passing, if you were in my House.”  
“Then I might’ve gotten a crush on her— pretty, smart, and vicious.”  
“We would have steered you away from her; she’s Muggleborn.”  
“Everyone telling me ‘no’ would have only pushed me closer.”  
“He might think of sparing you, if you were in Slytherin.”  
Siria pulled on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She shrugged with her hands in her pockets. Her head tilted a little to the side. For a flicker, she blinked longer than usual.  
“Malfoy,” Siria said as she opened her eyes. The flecks of blue in his silver felt so cold and sorry. “Voldemort wants me dead, and my House won’t change that. I’m cunning because I have to be. My ambition, for others to live through this. Besides,” Siria shrugged again, “I’m a closet nerd and a brave fool, not really the Slytherin type.”  
“I’m starting to think all the Houses have at least a few brave fools,” he said with a glance around the room.  
“Are you angry with me?” Siria asked.  
“Furious,” he said in a flat tone that didn’t match his reply. “But it adds to the narrative others think when they see us. How could the son of a Death Eater be friends with ‘The Girl Who Lived’?”


	33. Seen and Unforeseen

**Seen and Unforeseen**   


One hazy Monday morning, Fay and Siria headed to the Great Hall once they washed up after their run. A parliament of owls soared down on them, as they sat with Hermione and Ron. Out of habit, Siria took the letters and passed them to Hermione. As Kreacher brought Siria’s mail in the dead of night, she didn’t expect any from an owl.  
“These are for you,” Hermione said while she took more letters from other owls. “I think your interview’s been published,” she knocked Siria in the chest when she tried to hand her a long parcel. Siria opened it to find a rolled up copy of The Quibbler.  
She blushed at the girl who stared back. A black and white Siria sat, with enough confidence to rival Bellatrix Lestrange, and stared back. Cassius stood behind Siria’s chair with his hands on the back of it. Siria didn’t remember being so cocky when the photo was taken last year; she was glad to see Rita kept the “extras”.  
The photo’s headline read:  
Siria Potter-Black and Cassius Warrington Speak Out:  
The Truth About He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named  
and the Night We Saw Him Return [B5, 579]  
“It’s good, isn’t it?” said Luna. She squeezed onto the bench between Fred and Ron (B5, 579). Luna explained the paper released the night before and she asked her father to send Cassius and Siria a copy (B5, 579).  
Across the Hall, Siria met Cassius’s eye. He raised his copy of The Quibbler. Alice waved a handful of letters. She mouthed “Trash” and rolled her eyes. Patricia held up a letter and gave a small smile. Maddy shook her head. She waved a massive thumbs up and pointed to letter Patricia held.  
“Well, help me open them, won’t you?” Siria said to Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Hermione, Ron, Fay, and Luna. They tore open the letters. Each read over before saying if Siria persuaded someone, thought she was mad, or, as one person wrote, “while you seem like a fine and sane pair, I really cannot accept that You-Know-Who has returned— it’s terrifying.” [B5, 579-560]  
“What is going on here?” a disgustingly fake, sweet and recognizable voice asked (B5, 580). Umbridge peered up at Siria, who tilted her head down to glance over her glasses at Umbridge.  
“I’ve gotten fan mail, of sorts,” Siria said. She resisted the urge to smirk at Hermione.  
“Is that a crime now?” Fred asked in a loud, attention calling voice. “Getting mail?” (B5, 580)  
“Be careful, Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention,” said Umbridge (B5, 580). “And why, Potter, have—”  
“Potter-Black,” Siria interrupted flatly. She stared directly into Umbridge’s bulging toad eyes. “My name, Professor Umbridge, is ‘Potter-Black’,” Siria said. She raised her head. “And I’ve gotten replies to an interview,” Siria turned The Quibbler, in such a way that its front page was flashed to the other three House tables.  
In the clear voice Siria used in the Dumbledore’s Army lessons, she continued. “The Quibbler published an interview about last June— when Voldemort returned,” she said. Umbridge snatched the magazine from Siria. Her face contorted with patchy, violet blotches while her eyes blurred down the page. Siria cocked her head higher. [B5, 581]  
“When did you do this?” Umbridge asked, all the fake sugar sapped from her voice (B5, 581). Siria smirked.  
“Few weeks back,” Siria said vaguely. “There’s nothing in the school rules, educational decrees, or amendments that prohibit student interviews. Surely, you remember the ones from students during the Triwizard Tournament?” She poured more gasoline on the fire. “The Daily Prophet’s even referenced a few since June, in an attempt to throw shade. It’s worked for a bit of the public, but Hogwarts saw, Madame High Inquisitor.”  
“How dare you…” Umbridge trembled. She crushed the magazine in her grubby little hand. “How you could…” she looked like a wild bobblehead. “Detention, Potter-Black—” Umbridge spat out Siria’s seemingly venomous name, “and fifty points from Gryffindor.”  
“Actually,” Siria said, “according to the rules, ‘no authority may deduct House points for actions performed outside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and its grounds’.” Siria smiled. “You might have missed that rule refresher in The Hogwarts Herald, which you’ve tried to shut down.”  
“A week’s detention and fifty points for your lack of respect for authority!” Umbridge chattered through her gritted teeth. [B5, 581]

By lunchtime, Umbridge-tall signs were hung all around the school. There was one in almost every corridor and in each House notice board. All for Educational Decree Number Twenty-Seven, which was the shortest yet: any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled. [B5, 581]  
“Oh, Umbridge,” Siria sighed with a wide smirk. She, Hermione, and Ron knocked fists.  
“If there was one thing she could have done to make sure everyone reads, it’s ban it,” Hermione beamed up at the sign, that hung beside the Great Hall.  
“What a moron,” Ron said. He shook his head as he and Hermione headed down to Potions and she headed to Professor Chaudhary’s classroom.  
“What’s on the agenda for this week?” Professor Chaudhary asked when he reached Siria’s table.  
“Still working on the Wolfsbane Potion,” Siria said. She raised her arm to stop him. “I know Snape’s brewed at least fifty, but I need to get this on my own. If I still can’t get it, I’ll move onto bettering the Burn Healing Paste.”  
“Your Burn Healing Paste is already top notch,” he said. “Madam Pomfrey was quite impressed.”  
“Really?” Siria asked. She looked up from her Cauldron. Professor Chaudhary nodded.  
“You know, I’m sure she’d love to reward you for it. Let’s say ten points to Gryffindor for the Burn Healing Paste and ten for your dedication to difficult tasks,” he winked and walked away. Siria paused, mid-stir, mouth agape as she failed to say “thank you” in her awe.  
After dinner, Siria readied for her detention with Umbridge. Hermione clutched Siria’s arm. Siria chuckled. “Umbridge won’t try anything,” Siria said. “Even if she does, Cassius has detention too.” Hermione took off her gloves. She extended her hand to Siria. Siria smiled and leaned to kiss it when she actually saw it.  
Thin, small, neat writing— Hermione’s handwriting— was scarred into the back of her hand: I must not tell lies. Siria pulled Hermione’s hand closer. She squinted at it over her glasses, as though it could have been a trick of the light.  
“You said it was lines,” Siria whispered. Hermione had her other hand pressed over her eyes. “Hermione.”  
“You were all ‘I’d walk through fire’ and I couldn’t put it past you not to FiendFyre the whole castle,” Hermione said. She grabbed both of Siria’s wrists. Hermione pulled Siria down to her eye level. “Please, go in there, serve your detention, and leave.”  
“This isn’t right—”  
“Siria!” Hermione shook. “You— I— this isn’t about what’s ‘right’, not right now. This is about you being able to do more good. You can do more good here, at Hogwarts, than out there.”  
“Hermione, these are scars,” Siria said. Hermione knocked her forehead into Siria’s.  
“Siria, please. Put on some of your balm, it’ll help,” Hermione said.  
“All those gloves in the D.A….” Siria started. Hermione nodded. She squeezed her eyes shut.  
“I made them promise not to tell you.”  
“That’s why I never seemed to make enough,” Siria said. Hermione nodded again.  
“She makes you write with a quill that cuts into your hand and… and you write in your own blood, ‘until the message sinks in’.”  
“I’m so sorry,” Siria whispered. Hermione shook her head. She pulled on a brave, though not convincing smile.  
“Just, please, go through with it and let it be over.” [B5, 265-268]  
Though Siria did not have a balm-free experience to compare it to, carving “I must not tell lies” into her hand wasn’t as painful as Siria thought it would be. Cassius revealed the deep scars on his hand, which matched Hermione’s. “Now we all match,” Siria said. She tried to smile, but it fell too soon.  
A week of detentions with Umbridge was a small price for Cassius and Siria to pay. Professor Chaudhary wasn’t the only teacher to work around Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five and show support. Professor Sprout gave Siria twenty points when she passed a watering can. Professor Flitwick snuck a box of squeaking sugar mice into Siria’s hands, pressed his finger to his lips in a “shh!” and dashed away. Professor McGonagall gave Siria five points “for nerve”. Cassius also received points for simple, small actions. [B5, 582]  
Divination was the most shocking to Siria. Through hysterical sobs, Professor Trelawney announced Siria would live to be older than Dumbledore. “She’ll marry a beautiful, kind woman and they’ll adopt twenty children!” Ron covered his snigger. Siria kicked him under the table. While she wasn’t sure about outliving Dumbledore or having that many kids, marrying a beautiful girl sounded quite nice. [B5, 582-583]  
As though that weren’t enough, Luna informed Cassius and Siria that no issue of The Quibbler ever sold out so fast, and her father would be reprinting it. When they heard about the reprinting, Fred and George hung an enlarged a copy of the front page, which they Charmed to say “Eat dung, Umbridge” and “The Ministry are morons”, in the Gryffindor common room (B5, 584). Siria had them remove it the moment she walked in.  
After her third recounting of June’s events, Siria rose to her feet. “Thank you all, so much,” Siria told them, “but I’m so exhausted I could sleep through my O.W.L.s.” She sighed at their disappointed groans (B5, 584). Hermione linked her arm through Siria’s.  
“You heard her,” Hermione said. “We’ve exams to prepare for!” and she escorted Siria back to their dorm.  
“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked while Siria changed into her pajama pants. She shrugged and dropped onto Hermione’s bed. “You ought to clear your mind first,” Hermione said. Siria grumbled into Hermione’s pillow. Hermione sighed. “When you have nightmares, don’t be surprised.” Siria rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.  
“Weird thing is,” Siria said. “I think I’m still having them, or nightmares in general at least.” Hermione pulled on an oversized sweater and cuddled up to Siria. “I keep waking with this fear that something’s happened to Sirius, but,” Siria tapped her handy watch.  
“I suppose as long as he’s ‘traveling’ he’s fine, if it works like Mrs. Weasley’s clock,” Hermione said. Siria nodded and yawned. She nuzzled Hermione’s shoulder.  
“You know, I love you,” Siria yawned again. Hermione chuckled as leaned over the bed and picked up a book.  
“Love you too, nerd,” Hermione said.  
“Are you going to read to me?” Siria asked.  
“It’s a Korean spell book,” Hermione said. She flipped to her dog eared page. Siria gave a tired half shrug. “Alright, but you can’t get mad when Fay and I drag you onto the floor to wake you.” She waited for Siria to nod before she started.

Siria woke as she hit the cold, hard floor of their dorm a few hours later. Fay smacked Siria, again, with a pillow. Hermione shouted Siria’s name. Lavender threw her pillow at Siria. Parvati cried “What?”  
Parvati ripped Siria’s hands from her face. “Stop!” She shouted. “You’ll get another scar,” she said.  
“My face,” Siria gasped, “I—” Lavender tossed one of Siria’s mirrors to Parvati, who showed Siria her reflection. “I…” Siria squinted at the emerald eyed, jet black haired girl reflected back at her.  
“That’s right,” Parvati told her, “breathe.”  
“Is anyone hurt?” Fay asked. Siria shook her head.  
“Well,” Siria said, “Avery is going to be, but…” she closed her eyes and focused on the dream.  
“Rockwood, one of the escaped Death Eaters, he was an Unspeakable, and…” Siria paused. She would have to tell Hermione in private. “That is why Bode fought so hard against Malfoy’s Imperius Curse,” Rockwood told Voldemort (B5, 585).  
“And Avery gave Voldemort bad information,” Siria finished with a glance to Hermione.  
Fay helped Siria to her feet. Hermione took Siria’s arm from Fay. “Let’s get you a Draught of Dreamless Sleep,” Hermione said. “We can brew one up,” she lead Siria to her trunk. “Night,” she waved to the others. Siria caught Parvati give Lavender a look that said the other girls knew that wasn’t what Hermione was going to do.  
There wasn’t a chance for Siria to tell Malfoy about her dream. What would she even say? Hermione remembered Bode from St. Mungo’s and the Devil’s Snare. How could Malfoy even warn his father? Did Siria even want him too?  
When Hermione reminded Siria that, with her detentions to Umbridge served, she had Occlumency with Snape that night. “How am I supposed to clear my mind after that?” Siria asked. When she wasn’t staring holes through Malfoy’s head, she had Hufflepuff’s win against Slytherin on her mind. Worse, she occasionally of Angelina hosting tryouts for the recently reinstated Gryffindor Team. As Siria predicted, she was one of the students banned from activities.  
Before she knew it, Siria was outside Snape’s office door. Already defeated, she placed her head on the door and squeezed her eyes shut. “Enter” Snape called through the door. When she procrastinated, the door opened and she stumbled into the room.  
“I trust your week of detention with the High Inquisitor—” the heavy venom in Snape’s voice over Umbridge’s title would have endeared Siria to him, if it came from almost anyone else in the world, “—has not weakened our mind further.” She said nothing. Even when he yanked her onto her feet minutes later.  
“What was that last one?” Snape hissed. His grip on her arm tightened. Her ears rang.  
“I don’t know,” Siria replied through gritted teeth. “That hurts,” she reached to pry his hand off. Her body was on fire. Snape released her like he was burned by her blood. Siria’s stomach turned then emptied itself on his floor.  
Snape glared from the vomit to her face, as though Siria purposely expelled her stomach. She wiped at the corner of her mouth. He pointed his wand at the floor and it cleaned away her food. Her ears were still ringing. What had that last memory been?  
“I don’t,” Siria started. A wave hit her. “Feel good.” Snape said something, but she couldn’t hear over the ringing in her ears. She shivered. Siria was hot, but freezing.  
Snape yanked Siria off the floor. She shook her head. There was a flash of the memory— Siria being smacked into her cupboard door frame. Glass shattered over someone shouting.  
“Let go!” Siria bellowed over her own, smaller voice. Snape crashed into a shelf. “Just— just tell Dumbledore you can’t teach me anymore,” she said. He flicked his wand at the shattered jars, which repaired themselves and leapt back onto their repaired shelving.  
“Potter-Black,” Snape said, “the Headmaster wishes you to continue, no matter what.”  
“I will— with Hermione or something,” Siria said as she shook her head and inched toward the door. “I’m sure your teaching method works for some people, but I’m tired of my failures being repressed childhood beatings and my victories being your mother’s…” she raised her eyes to his face. Siria was tired of watching the hook nosed man shout and beat that poor woman.[B5, 591-592]  
“Well, it is not your decision,” Snape told her, “who you take your lessons with.” He rose his wand. Siria opened the door.  
“I’ll persuade the Headmaster then,” Siria said. While she didn’t much fancy blackmailing Dumbledore with his love letters, she was one accidental magic moment away from blowing up Snape’s office. He growled, but a scream from above them silenced them both (B5, 593).  
When Snape asked if she saw anything odd, she was too worn to give a sarcastic reply of “just the usual shrieking head.” She shook her head “no,” and followed a fair distance behind him. [B5, 594]  
Students crowded in the corridor, outside the Great Hall. Many stood on the steps, having been headed to or from dinner. They formed a ring around Professor Trelawney. Her wand trembled in one hand and a sherry bottle in the other. The various shawls she wore hung haphazardly around her, falling like pieces of unpinned fabric on a mannequin. Two large trunks were toppled behind her, as though thrown down the stairs. [B5, 595]  
“You c—can’t!” Professor Trelawney cried. “I’be b—been here sisteen years! H—Hogwarts is m—my h—home!”  
“It was your home,” said the sugary sweet voice of Professor Umbridge. Siria clicked her tongue. With the sea of students, she could not see tiny Professor Umbridge, halfway up the stairs. “Until half an hours ago, when the Minister of Magic co-signed the order for your dismissal.”[B5, 595]  
Siria squinted around the castle entrance. Cassius was there. She knew, though didn’t know how. Under the pretense of pretending to get a better view, Siria side stepped through the crowd. [B5, 595]  
Half her attention focused on Professor Trelawney, as Professor McGonagall approached, Siria continued around the ring of students. She caught Professor McGonagall tell Professor Trelawney that she would not have to leave. Umbridge giggled in a vile, deadly voice. “And your authority for that statement is…?” [B5, 595-596]  
“That would be mine,” a deep voice announced at the large, oak front doors as they opened. Siria hurried to join the crowd, parting to clear space for Dumbledore. While other students gawked at Dumbledore’s impressive image, in his pale, seemingly glowing, mint robes. Mist rolled in around him, but never neared him. The cool, moonlight trickled in and highlighted his fine white hair.  
Dumbledore explained, while Umbridge had the authority to dismiss teachers, she did not have the authority to banish them from the castle. Professor Trelawney sobbed something like “go seek my fortunes elsewhere,” but Dumbledore insisted she stay. At Dumbledore’s request, Professors McGonagall and Sprout escorted Professor Trelawney away while Professor Flitwick Charmed her trunks to move back up the steps. [B5, 596-597]  
“And what,” Umbridge began in a carrying whisper, “will you do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?” Dumbledore, his smile still firm, told her he had already found a new teacher. Siria caught sight of Alice’s kinky dark hair, in the doorway of the Great Hall.  
“You’ve found?” Umbridge shrieked. “Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree—”  
“The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if— and only if— the headmaster is unable to find one,” Dumbledore finished. There was a twinkle in his eyes, as he gestured to the door. [B5, 597]  
Through the mist, there were hooves. Those around the doors parted further. In the twinkling light, through the mist, pranced a centaur. Firenze, with his long, white-blonde hair and striking blue eyes, had not aged a day since he escorted Siria in the Forbidden Forest. The only change was a harsh, bloodied hoof print on his chest [B5, 598]


	34. Career Advice

**Career Advice**   


Malfoy paced Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Myrtle hovered beside Siria and watched him. Neither knew what to do. Malfoy’s father had used the Imperius Curse on someone. He would go to Azkaban, as soon as Bode was well enough to point the finger. Myrtle eyed Siria. She gave three small nods in Malfoy’s direction, to say “go comfort him.” Siria’s jaw dropped for a moment before she mouthed “how?” But Myrtle eyed around the bathroom like one of the broken tiles had the answer.  
“I can’t wait until He takes over,” Malfoy spat. Siria clasped her hands together, as she had the last three times he said something to this effect. “We’re pureblood. We won’t let my father go to prison— if anything, that Ministry wizard should for breaking the Curse.”  
“Have you heard a word you’ve said?” Siria asked. “The Dark Lord you were so worried about that you joined Dumbledore’s Army, is going to save your father from prison?”  
“Maybe He didn’t know it was Warrington,” said Malfoy. “Maybe Wormtail didn’t either. You said Wormtail’s gone a bit mad; maybe he didn’t know.” Siria sighed.  
“What about the rest of us?” Siria asked. Malfoy stopped pacing to look at her.  
“You’re a halfblood, he might spare you— you could marry a pureblood and join us.”  
Siria chose to ignore Malfoy’s use of “us” as though he already changed sides. She closed her eyes and prayed for patience, or that she could at least mind her temper. “He’s just anxious,” she tried to tell herself.  
“What about Ron?” Siria asked. “What about the Weasleys?”  
“They are,” Malfoy sighed, “technically pureblood. If they’d renounce Muggle rubbish and join, they’d be fine. What’s the point in killing purebloods when we’re so few?”  
“And Hermione?” Siria asked. His cool grey eyes flicked around the bathroom. They fell at Siria’s feet. “Muggleborn Hermione Granger.”  
“There’s a Potion Master named Granger,” Malfoy said, “we could say she’s from a Squib line and the magic just…” he grasped at the air, “it just popped back in?” Siria threw her head back in a bark of laughter. “Fine! She could marry a pureblood— I,” Malfoy glanced to one of the stalls, “I’ll marry her.”  
“You think I’d let anyone marry Hermione under such ridiculous pretenses?” Siria cried as she walked closer. “What’s more, you think your father’s buddy would just spare her? When has Voldemort ever spared a ‘Mudblood’?” Siria framed the word in air quotes and her voice echoed her disdain.  
“He might have,” Malfoy said.  
“Well,” Siria said, “who’s to say Voldemort won’t want to punish your father for his failure? Did he get the job done? No. Not only did he fail, but to leave a witness.”  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Malfoy shouted. His hand dove into his robe pocket. Siria’s wand was out before his. She pointed it right at his nose. The blue flecks in his grey eyes were frozen.  
“Don’t,” she said. “If you want to put your hopes on someone that failed to kill an infant and has thrown a decade long tantrum over it, knock yourself out— but I won’t be there when this backfires in your face.”  
“You’ll regret this,” Malfoy said.  
“Not as much as you will,” Siria said. “You had the choice between what was easy and what was right, and took the easy path.”  
“Who’s to say it’s not the right one?” Malfoy asked. His eyes were fixed on hers, not on the wand a breath from his face.  
“Time.”

February continued with Firenze as the Divination teacher, on the ground floor in a classroom Transfigured and Charmed to look like the Forbidden Forest. Umbridge continued to attend all Care of Magical Creatures lessons, with Filch watching her classes. It made it difficult for Siria to pass on Firenze’s vague warning of “Your attempt is not working and you would do better to abandon it,” to Hagrid, which she ended up writing and asking Kreacher to deliver. [B5, 604-605]  
Near the start of March, Cho Chang caught up with Siria, alone and on her way to Professor Chaudhary’s classroom. Without turning back, Siria asked “what do you want Cho?”  
“Siria, I never dreamed Marietta would tell—” Cho started. Siria scoffed. “She’s a lovely person, really. She just made a mistake. Marietta’s mother works for the Ministry, you know—” at this, Siria rounded on Cho. (B5, 637)  
“Do you know how many other people’s parents work for the Ministry? But they didn’t tell. Only your Sneak friend,” said Siria (B5, 637). Cho looked as though Siria slapped her, then became impassive.  
“That was an awful trick of Hermione’s,” said Cho. “She should have told us.” (B5, 637)  
“Why?” Siria asked. “Just be thankful she didn’t use the Jinx I wanted because ‘snitches get stitches’, so tell your sneak of a ‘lovely person’ friend to watch her back and leave Cedric alone.”  
“Are you—” Cho started. She stepped onto the same step as Siria. “Marietta isn’t interested in Cedric.” Siria barked out a laugh.  
“She might not fancy Cedric, but there’s a reason he hasn’t gone out with anyone else: your sneak friend jinxes or hexes them out of the way,” Siria said. She barked another short laugh. “Don’t give me that look. You think Marietta told ‘for her mum’ right after the Hogsmeade visit I hung out with Cedric? Please!” Siria rolled her eyes. “So tell her you’re over him and to let him be, and that you’re out of the D.A.”  
“I wouldn’t want to stay in a place where people get stitches anyway,” said Cho. “We’re not quilts.”  
“She’ll look like one if she ticks me off again,” Siria said and marched away.  
“Maybe you’ll look like one if you tick me off!” Cho shouted after Siria. Siria raised a rude hand gesture, and did not look back.

The rest of March blurred into April and their Easter Holiday. Homework increased by the week as Professors reminded students of their approaching O.W.L.s. Dumbledore Army’s lessons dropped to once a week, as Cassius prepared for his N.E.W.T.s. Occlumency was hit or miss, but Siria woke with anxiety over Sirius or else with the feeling she had ran into the Department of Mysteries and seen the prophecy Voldemort wanted so badly.  
Kreacher’s visits for a cuppa and Siria’s mail were a highlight of her weeks. Chloe sent small pieces she worked on or copies of her Hogwarts inspired designs. Remus and Sirius still had no cure for a living Horcrux that didn’t involve Voldemort willingly taking back the piece of his soul. They had been unable to time their calls, so Kreacher brought bits of news when he came.  
At the end of the Easter Holiday, a notice for career advice with dates and times for fifth year students was posted on the common room notice board (B5, 656). Siria was scheduled to miss Divination next week, and was more than happy to do so.  
She headed to Professor McGonagall’s office. A few minutes early, Siria knocked. “Enter,” Professor McGonagall instructed. Siria poked her head in and beamed. “Sit down, Potter-Black,” she said (B5, 661).  
As Siria closed the door, she noticed, tucked in the corner, Umbridge. With a little clipboard on her knee, a heidous pie-frill around her neck, and smug grin on her face (B5, 661). Siria rose to her full height and strutted to the chair Professor McGonagall offered.  
“As you know, Potter-Black, this meeting is to discuss any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into sixth and seventh years,” said Professor McGonagall (B5, 662). “Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?” (B5, 662).  
A smirk crept over Siria’s face, as she thought about the toad in the corner. She eyed Professor McGonagall, who arched an eyebrow in silent reply. “I’ve got quite a few ideas, but three that I’d like to talk with you about,” Siria said. Professor McGonagall nodded for her to continue.  
“The first is probably the most obvious, which is working with Sirius, Remus, and Chloe,” said Siria.  
“For most students, entering in fashion or business requires a lot of independent study,” Professor McGonagall explained. “With it being family owned, Mr. Black and Mr. Remus will most likely want to train you on site, as they did over summer. Discuss with your father about any classes he may want you to take. He and Mr. Remus took Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Potions— yes, Potions,” there was a small smile in the corner of Professor McGonagall’s mouth. “What are the other careers you’re interested in?”  
“Well,” said Siria. She inhaled and tried to ignore the scratching of the quill behind her. “I’ve put some thought into being an Auror.”  
“You’d need top grades for that,” said Professor McGonagall as she shuffled through the career pamphlets for a dark leaflet (B5, 662). “They ask for a minimum of five N.E.W.T.s, all ‘Exceeds Expectations’ or higher, I see. You would also be required to undergo a stringent series of character and aptitude tests at the Auror office. It’s a difficult career path, Potter-Black. They only take the very best. In fact, I don’t know anybody has been taken on in the last three years.” (B5, 662)  
Umbridge gave a small cough, which Siria spoke over. “I’m rather used to the difficult path,” Siria said. She mirrored Professor McGonagall’s small smile, which twitched as Umbridge gave another, slightly louder, small cough.  
“Naturally, I’ll need Defense Against the Dark Arts and probably Transfiguration,” said Siria. Professor McGonagall nodded.  
“Now, I ought to tell you know that I do not accept less than ‘Exceeds Expectations’ at O.W.L. for my N.E.W.T. classes. If you continue your current level of work, you should manage fine,” she said. “You’ll want to take Potions, as well,” a another small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.  
“How does N.E.W.T. level independent study work?” Siria asked. “I imagine it’s the same deal: fill out the form, parent/guardian permission, and professor signature?”  
“There are some specific requirements you’ll need to keep in mind. Professor Snape will only accept those that receive ‘Outstanding’ at O.W.L. level,” said Professor McGonagall (B5, 663). “Independent study or otherwise. You seem to manage an ‘Exceeds Expectations’—” Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as Umbridge gave another, slightly louder cough. “You’ll need to bring that up.”  
“Do the other two NE.W.T.s matter or could I take Charms and Care of Magical Creatures?” Siria asked.  
“Charms is always useful,” said Professor McGonagall (B5, 663). “Care of Magical Creatures,” there was another smile, “could certainly be useful, but Herbology is more common in the work of an Auror. You’re welcome to take both, as the periods do not overlap. Just don’t overwork yourself.”  
Umbridge coughed again.  
“May I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?” Professor McGonagall asked with her eyes fixed on Siria (B5, 663).  
“Oh no, thank you very much,” Umbridge said with that simpering giggle that turned Siria’s stomach (B5, 663)  
“So that’s being an Auror,” Siria said over Umbridge. “The final career I’ve considered is, well,” Siria tilted her head slightly in Umbridge’s corner. “As you know even better than I do, there’s been a new position at Hogwarts each year and, if things line up, I’dliketoapply.”  
“Hm,” Professor McGonagall eyed Siria, who gripped the sides of her chair. “Hogwarts does not accept students fresh off their N.E.W.T.s. We like the students to see a bit of the world,” she said. “Has your father discussed your eighth year trip?”  
“Eighth year?” Siria asked. “I thought that was more a ‘if you can’ kind of thing.”  
Umbridge coughed again. Professor McGonagall plowed forward.  
“Potter-Black, unless I am very mistaken, your family is more than well enough off to allow you the resources for the trip and, with your various contacts—” Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as though she were praying for patience when Umbridge coughed again, “—there really isn’t a reason for you not to go, unless you’re worried about Ms. Granger or Mr. Weasley.”  
“Not at all,” Siria shook her head, as she leaned forward in her chair. “If I went, I’d obviously bring them. ‘It’s not the journey, but the company’, or something like that. Would I be able to teach after a year away?”  
“Potter-Black, it will depend on the Headmaster and if the position is available,” Professor McGonagall looked like she bit a pepper when Umbridge coughed again.  
“Are you quite sure you wouldn’t like a cough drop, Dolores?” Professor McGonagall asked through tightly clenched teeth (B5, 663).  
“Oh, no need, thank you Minerva,” Umbridge simpered. Siria mimed vomiting. “I was just concerned that you might be giving Ms. Potter false—” (B5, 663-664)  
“Potter-Black” Siria and Professor McGonagall corrected.  
“False hope.” (B5, 664)  
“False hope?” repeated Professor McGonagall. “She has achieved high marks in all her Defense Against the Dark Arts tests—” at Umbridge’s start, she pushed onward “by a competent teacher.” [B5, 664]  
Professor McGonagall sifted through a folder on her desk, which contained one piece of pink parchment with a handful of other common colored sheets. “If the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is available when you return, and you chose that path over being an Auror or taking over the family business, write to the Headmaster. They’ll have your records.”  
“Now, if you pursue being an Auror, there will be three years of training, not to mention very high skilled testing in practical defense. It will mean a lot more study, even after you’ve left school, so it isn’t a career to take lightly,” said Professor McGonagall (B5, 665).  
Umbridge hopped down from her chair. She was so short, it hardly made a difference. She glowered at Professor McGonagall.  
“Potter has no chance whatsoever of becoming an Auror!” (B5, 665)  
Professor McGonagall stood up, which caused her to tower over Umbridge. “Potter-Black, if you wish to become an Auror, I will assist you if it is the last thing I do!” Professor Mcgonagall stated. Siria blushed. “If I have to coach you night I will make sure you achieve the required results!” (B5, 665)  
“The Minister of Magic will never employ Siria Potter!” said Umbridge, her voice cracking under the strain to keep her sweet tone beneath her anger.  
“There may well be a new Minister of Magic by the time Potter-Black is ready to join!” shouted Professor Mcgonagall (B5, 665).  
“Aha!” Umbridge shrieked. She pointed a stubby finger at Professor McGonagall, but Siria replied first (B5, 665).  
“Well, Hermione’s actually planning on doing something useful so—”  
“Granger?” Umbridge gasped. “You think that Muggleborn could become Minister—”  
“Maybe there’s something useful she could do as Minister—”  
“Potter-Black, out!” Professor McGonagall bellowed as she turned on the reddening Umbridge.  
“Granger will never be Minister of Magic and neither will your pal Dumbledore!” Umbridge shouted at Professor McGonagall. Siria could still hear their voices, though she couldn’t make them out, when she started up the stairs. [B5, 666]  
For lack of better punishment, Umbridge gave Siria detention for both the remaining Quidditch matches. Siria wasn’t sorry to miss Gryffindor’s loss to Hufflepuff. Cedric reached the Snitch “less than a second” before Ginny, but that fraction of a second was all it took. From the choruses of Weasley is Our King, she was almost a little relieved when she caught up with Hermione after the match against Ravenclaw.  
Hermione was covered in small cuts and her hair was snagged. Siria chuckled as she applied some of the balm to the cuts on Hermione’s face. “You look like you’ve been in the Forest,” Siria said. “What kind of jinx does this?”  
“It wasn’t a jinx,” Hermione whispered. She combed her hair through her fingers. “I finally know why Hagrid keeps getting beat up— his ‘little’ brother.”  
“Oh, no.”  
“Oh, yes— and he wants us to give ‘Grawp’ English lessons,” Hermione shook her head. “Let’s head up and I’ll tell you and Ron together.” [B5, 684-701]  
Ron was a hero in the Gryffindor common room. The choruses of Weasley is Our King were Gryffindor lyrics that sang of Ron’s success. Only one goal made it by him. It wasn’t until the next afternoon, when they convinced him to step outside, they had a chance to speak with him. He recounted his four saves against Ravenclaw Captain Roger Davies and three against the other Chasers for yet another time. “But, of course Hermione saw,” he said. Siria leaned back, so the tips of her fingers fell into the sunlight, and eyed Hermione. [B5, 701-705]  
“Actually, Ron… I didn’t,” said Hermione. She recounted her journey, with Hagrid, into the Forbidden Forest. Hermione made frequent glances to Siria at points where she felt Siria should have been there. “And then the centaurs showed up and only let us go because I’m a ‘child’,” Hermione finished.  
“I can’t believe Hagrid took you so far in like that,” Siria said.  
“I can’t believe he wants us to teach his brother English,” said Ron. “Maybe he won’t get sacked. He’s made it this far.”  
“Maybe,” Siria said.  
“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Hermione. “Apparently two nifflers got into Umbridge’s office and she thinks it’s Hagrid.[B5, 705-706]  
“Did he?” Ron asked. “Just asking,” he added at Siria’s look. “It doesn't matter. What’re you planning for the next D.A.?”


	35. Preparations Paid

**Preparations Paid**   


“Now, the Disillusionment Charm is a heck of a lot easier to perform on yourself than the full-body Invisibility Charm,” Siria’s seemingly bodiless voice explained to Dumbledore’s Army. “As you see, or, don’t, I suppose, there are benefits to the Invisibility Charm that the Disillusionment Charm doesn’t have.” Siria walked before a floral curtain. Colin Creevey gasped and pointed. She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see. “Right,” Siria said. “You’ll take on your surroundings, if Disillusioned, so someone actually searching for you will find you.”  
“But you’re absolutely Invisible if you can master the Invisibility Charm,” Hermione said.  
The two girls reappeared and set about the Room, with Ron, to help people individually. Siria kept a smile on. For as much as they fought to keep the dying out D.A. together, Umbridge cracked down on them further. She formed an Inquisitorial Squad from handpicked “Ministry sympathetic” students— Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass among them. Siria nodded encouragingly at Colin Creevey, who swore he Disillusioned his head for a second.  
When the doors of the Room of Requirement opened, Siria turned, with the others. They saw, not a late comer, but Dobby the house elf. His tennis ball sized green eyes scanned around him, though he headed right for Siria, who met him part way.  
“Dobby,” Siria said as she knelt. Her stomach sank even lower than her head. “What is it?”  
“Siria Potter-Black,” Dobby glanced over his shoulder. “She…” Siria squeezed her eyes.  
“She’s finally caught on, hasn’t she?” Siria asked. Dobby nodded. He made to run into the wall, but Siria swept him into her arms, like a doll. [B5, 607-608]  
“The library and owlery are close by— there’s a girl’s bathroom down the stairs to the left and a boy’s this floor to the right,” Siria instructed. She repressed rolling her eyes as theirs remained fixed on her. “GO!” Siria shouted.  
Siria hurried Dobby to Hermione and Ron. She placed Hermione’s hand around one of Dobby’s and one of Ron’s around Dobby’s other. “Dobby, please, take them to the kitchen and keep them there— don’t you dare hurt yourself,” Siria rushed out in a breath. Before Hermione or Ron could protest, Dobby gave a nod then there was a CRACK and they were gone.  
She glanced around the empty room. Siria pointed her wand at the blackboard. “They’re just things,” Siria told herself. “Pefynd Beignis!” She summoned forth a monstrous wolf and equally twisted stag made of fire. They charged down the dummies, the blackboard, and Siria made them vanish when the door crashed open.  
Siria turned on her heel. A pale, pointed face peered in from the doorway. “What are you doing here?” Malfoy snapped at Siria. It was the first time they’d spoken since she told him his father used the Imperius Curse on Bode. He closed the door behind him. She raised her wand. He stopped and raised his.  
“Is this where we stand?” Malfoy asked, his nose scrunched. Siria rose to her full height.  
“You’re the one—” but the door opened again.  
“We’ve got Potter!” Pansy Parkinson shrieked. “Professor! Malfoy caught Potter.”  
“Potter-Black,” Siria slipped her wand into her robes. Umbridge knocked into Parkinson in her hurry to see.  
“Very good, Draco,” Umbridge said. She placed a grubby hand on his shoulder with a pat of approval. “Come now, Potter.”  
“Potter-Black,” Siria said with full confidence. If she were going to be expelled, points for ‘lack of respect for authority’ were small potatoes. Umbridge took Siria’s arm in a vice grip. She glanced around the room.  
The mirror was all that remained. “What’s this?” Umbridge asked with a rotten grin, as she dragged Siria to the mirror.  
“That’d be a mirror,” Siria said, flatly. “You may be used to them breaking—” Umbridge pointed her wand to Siria. Siria arched an eyebrow. What could Umbridge try that Voldemort had not? Though Umbridge lowered her wand, she snatched the photo of the old Order of Phoenix and the seemingly blank parchment. Umbridge told Parkinson to check the girls’ bathroom and for Malfoy to check the boys’.  
As Umbridge pulled Siria from the room, Siria could feel Malfoy’s eyes on her. Siria rose her head high. She wasn’t sure if it was her or him, but one of them burned that bridge and its ashes wouldn’t be cleaved back together.  
Rather than Umbridge’s own office, which Siria assumed was their destination, they were on the path to Dumbledore’s. Siria sighed. “That’s right,” Umbridge said, as though she’d won a prize. “We’ve got you now.” Siria rolled her eyes. Dumbledore’s refusal to look at Siria, him insisting Siria take Occlumency with someone that hates her, and his general lack of involvement, were off putting to Siria.  
Umbridge hopped onto the moving stone staircase. Siria sighed again. “Maybe it’s that,” Siria wondered. A small part of her blamed Dumbledore for Hermione being petrified in their second year. Dumbledore hired Lockhart, who was incompetent even before his mind was wiped.  
The little toad pushed the door open without knocking. Dumbledore was not alone. Professor McGonagall stood beside his desk. Kingsley Shacklebolt and a man, who Siria figured was an Auror, flanked Cornelius Fudge. Percy Weasley closed the door behind Siria and Umbridge.  
“Malfoy cornered her in the room,” Umbridge told Fudge. She tugged Siria forward. Siria tsked and slapped Umbridge’s hand away. Fudge paused in the middle of telling Umbridge how much Mr. Malfoy would enjoy hearing of Draco’s success. [B5, 610]  
“I expect you know why you are here?” Fudge asked (B5, 610). His nose was wrinkled, as Aunt Petunia’s did whenever Siria walked by.  
“Was there a new Decree that prohibits loitering?” Siria asked. She adjusted her clothes, as though wiping dust.  
“Loitering?” Fudge repeated. Siria arched a bored eyebrow at him.  
“Yeah,” she repeated. “Dawdling,” Siria said, as she tucked her hands in her pockets. “I’ve got my O.W.L.s this year, Minister, and it’s quite a stressful time. Clearly, it’s been awhile since yours.” She added a small, unconcerned shrug.  
“I know when O.W.L.s—” Fudge started. He adjusted his coat. “Are you saying you have no idea why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office?” (B5, 611)  
“I imagine she’s bored," Siria said and added an eye roll for good measure.  
“The High Inquisitor does not have time for boredom,” Fudge snapped. A smirk tugged at the corner of Siria’s mouth. “You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?” Fudge asked (B5, 611).  
“I haven’t broken any school rules,” Siria said. “The Hogwarts Herald—”  
“Or Ministry decrees?” Fudge amended. He looked like someone was boiling him.  
“Again,” Siria said, annoyed, “unless one came out today banning alone time—”  
“I know you were not alone!” Fudge snapped. “We have a witness that you were conducting secret lessons.” [B5, 611-612]  
“Do you?” Siria asked. “After Educational Decree whatever it was?” She glanced around the room. If there was one thing she knew, it was that no one was going to risk looking like Marietta Edgecombe. Fudge’s silence spoke volumes.  
Siria raised her hands in a small shrug. “If that’s all, may I leave?” Siria asked. “This wasn’t exactly the study break I was looking for.”  
“We have proof of what you were up to,” Umbridge said and presented the photo and parchment.  
“If I’m not mistaken,” Fudge said with a confidence that implied he was not, “this is the Order of the Phoenix,” he said with a grin. Fudge showed it to Dumbledore. Siria rolled her eyes. “What are you doing with such a thing?”   
“My parents were in the Order,” Siria said, “it gives me perspective.”  
“Perspective?” Fudge repeated like he never heard such a thing.  
“Do you know what happened to most of the those people?” Siria asked. “Their whole families murdered, only ‘bits’ of them found, tortured into madness, some slaughtered by Voldemort—”  
“Enough!” Fudge shuddered at the word.  
“Well, what’s this then?” Umbridge waved the paper at Siria. “It was tucked beside the photo, Minister.” She placed the parchment down on one of Dumbledore’s tables. Umbridge tapped her wand on it. Words started to appear, as though an invisible hand were writing (B3, 286).  
“D presents her compliments to Professor Umbridge and would like to register her astonishment that such an idiot was made a professor.” [B3, 287]  
Umbridge’s massive, toad eyes bulged liked someone pumped air into them. Siria covered her mouth and pretended to yawn.  
“U would like to add that Professor Umbridge ought to do something about her warty toad face. There’s a branch of magic called ‘Transfiguration’.”  
Pride and stress mixed in Siria’s stomach, as more words in other people’s handwriting appeared. She wished she could record it for Sirius, but knew Remus would approve as much as he would disapprove. Professor McGonagall’s face was stone. Dumbledore seemed to have expected as much from Siria.  
“What Dark Magic have you used on this?” Umbridge asked through her teeth that chattered so much Siria hoped they would break.  
“Dark Magic?” Siria asked with a roll of her head. “As the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, can’t you at least recognize what is and isn’t—”  
“What is this?” Umbridge asked. She grabbed Siria’s arm. Siria raised her hand to knock Umbridge off, but Umbridge released Siria, as though burned (B5, 616).  
“I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores,” said Dumbledore. He had risen to his feet and withdrawn his wand. Umbridge shook her hands rapidly.  
“You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge,” Kingsley said in his deep, slow voice. “You don’t want to get yourself into trouble now.” (B5, 617)  
“It’s a parchment designed to insult nosey prats,” Siria said. “A simple combination of Leanne Wright’s Insulting Jinx, Vanishing Ink, and the very late Sirius Black’s Personality Charm— you may remember the Personality Charm was temporarily popular on mirrors in the 1800’s.” Though Siria didn’t know why they introduced themselves as letters. She supposed it was better than their names or else one of the revealing spells working.  
“And we’re to expect you just go around putting all this work into your spare parchment?” Fudge asked. He scowled from the parchment to Siria.  
“Well, it’s funny,” Siria said. Neither Fudge nor Umbridge were convinced. They tapped the parchment, which continued to insult them. Kingsley and the other Auror did the same. Siria massaged the bridge of her nose.  
“Ah, ha!” Fudge shouted.  
“...Some might say that you should something other than what is easy,” was written in mixed matched handwriting. Siria’s heart sank, as she squinted at the page. Though it was considerably paler and covered in different handwritings, it was plain to see. Like an acrostic poem, the first letter of each sentence, down the line, spelt it.  
“Do you see what it has spelt? ‘Dumbledore’s’. Dumbledore’s what?” Fudge rounded on Dumbledore. “Care to save us the time and confess?”  
Fudge flared the piece of parchment like it was his ticket to victory. It looked like someone had crumpled and uncrumpled it a hundred times. Siria held her breath in an attempt to still her face as her eyes caught sight of the pieces that flaked off. Under Fudge’s very fingers, the parchment crumbled. Ron’s idea of limiting how much magic the parchment could take may have saved them all.  
“What’s spelt what now?” Siria bit back. She wanted to say it, but the little voice in her head that sounded like Hermione said, firmly “no!” Instead, Siria rocked on the  
back on her heels. “They have no proof,” Siria told herself.  
“And what is it, Cornelius, that you believe I ought to confess to?” Dumbledore asked with as much calm and civility as if he offered Fudge pumpkin juice.  
“To,” Fudge paused, “to conspiracy against the Ministry!”  
“On what grounds?” Dumbledore asked. Fudge looked to Siria then Umbridge, then Umbridge and Fudge stared at Siria. Siria gave a half shrug.  
“I’m curious too,” she said.  
“Minister, High Inquisitor,” Professor McGonagall’s voice startled Siria. “If you’re done with Potter-Black, I’d like to see her return to Gryffindor Tower before curfew.” Fudge glared at Siria. She blinked innocently back at him.  
“Fine,” said Fudge. “We have other matters to attend to,” he said. Without a farewell, he, Kingsley, the other Auror, and Umbridge left the office. Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at the door.  
“Potter-Black,’’ Professor McGonagall said, “what were you thinking? Underground defense lessons.”  
“That someone had to teach us,” Siria said. “You can’t tell me you’re disappointed with me. Wouldn’t you’ve done the same?”  
“You could have been expelled,” Professor McGonagall said. Siria sighed as she slouched. She clicked her tongue. “Maybe worse.”  
“Minerva, if I may speak with Siria alone,” requested Professor Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall looked as though she had much more she wanted to say.  
“Of course,” she said instead. She waved her wand at the door as she stepped onto the staircase.  
“Take a seat, please,” said Dumbledore. Siria rose her head taller.  
“I’d rather stand, sir,” she said.  
“Very well.” Dumbledore said. He circled around and leaned against the front of his desk.  
Even know, Dumbledore focused on a spot beyond or over Siria. She chewed her cheek, but raised herself to the peak of her height. “Professor Snape says that you have not continued your Occlumency lessons,” said Dumbledore. A tray of tea appeared before him.  
“I’ve kept up,” Siria said. “Hermione’s been helping me instead.”  
“It was my request that you learned with Professor Snape, regardless of what becomes of a young man’s old love letters,” he said, as he poured his cup. There was a small smile, but Siria ignored it.  
“I’ll be denying your request—”  
“Preposterous!” Phineas Nigellus interrupted. “Students did not back talk their Headmasters in my day—” but he quieted at Dumbledore’s raised hand. Siria crossed her arms.  
“Sir, I didn’t apply for Independent Study Potions because I thought it’d be fun— I did it to not have to see Snape,” Siria said. She rolled her eyes when Dumbledore corrected “Professor Snape.”  
“He hates me, Sirius, and James. Nothing I do could ever be enough to change how much he hates them. To be perfectly honest, even if he didn’t hate them, there isn’t anything he could do to make me not hate him for how he treats other people.”  
Dumbledore gave a small, almost sorry smile at his tea. He continued to examine the spot of air just above Siria’s head. She took a sidestep toward the door and held out her hand. When he did not protest, Siria placed her hand on the door. Dumbledore nodded. “Please remember that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those that ask for it. You may go, Ms. Potter-Black.” [B2, 264]


	36. Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-Bangs

Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-Bangs  
With no other recourse, Umbridge gave Siria detention— to be continued for “as long as it takes.” Each resulted in Siria silently writing “I must not tell lies” while Umbridge told her “I know you’re up to something,” and “I see you still haven’t learned your lesson.” Mostly the nightly lessons cut into Siria’s ability to do homework. Nearly half her assignments were incomplete and not much could be said for the ones that were.  
Classes moved onto review for the O.W.L.s fifth years would take in June. Then, in the last week of May, it happened. At first, Siria thought she misread the Daily Prophet headline. Somehow, it still didn’t make sense.  
Even with the anxious chatter throughout the Great Hall from those that subscribed after the Azkaban breakout, she thought it had to be wrong. The unease that radiated from the staff table drew Siria’s eyes. There was the proof.  
In the middle chair of the staff table, in Dumbledore’s chair, which he occupied for all Siria’s memory of Hogwarts outside the brief period in their second year when Malfoy’s father had Dumbledore removed… sat the revolting pink cardigan, disgusting alice band, clumpy pink lipstick, and bulging toad eyes of Umbridge. The same Umbridge from the photo beneath the haunting headline:  
Dolores Jane Umbridge replaces Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
“But… how?” Siria finally asked. She and Ron looked to Hermione.  
“I don’t know yet,” Hermione said as she continued to scan the article. “It’s only the Prophet’s version, but it says Dumbledore was tried by the Wizengamot and found guilty for conspiracy against the Ministry.” Her brow knitted together, as she tried to find the truth between the lies. “Obviously, it was rigged… he’s on the run, at least, but…” and Hermione sighed and scanned up to the staff table.  
“But how are we going to fix the points?” Ron asked. Hermione and Siria turned to the large hourglasses that held the House points. Siria sighed at the hundred or so points that remained in the Gryffindor hourglass.  
“I don’t even want to think about points,” she said and took another slice of toast, as Fred and George sat down.  
“So,” said Fred as he shoveled eggs on his plate.  
“You’ve seen the news,” George said while he shook his head.  
“What did you do?” Siria asked. Fred and George looked innocently at her, too innocently. The twins shared a grin.  
“Montague tried to docks a hundred fifty more points,” said Fred.  
“What do you mean ‘tried’?” Hermione asked over the top of her Prophet. George’s grin widened.  
“You remember that vanishing cabinet?” George asked.  
“The one Nick got Peeves to break?” Siria asked.  
“Is there another?” Fred asked. She shrugged. “Well,”  
“We pushed him in,” said George.  
“Before he could finish getting the words out,” finished Fred. [B5, 637]  
Hermione gasped. She shut her Daily Prophet. “But we don’t know where it goes, and it’s broken— you could have killed him,” she said.  
“He shouldn’t have tried to take away all those points,” said Ron.  
“Hermione,” Siria sighed, “if it means that much to you, I’ll fish him out… eventually.”  
“Oh?” Hermione asked. “And how do you plan on ‘fishing’ him out?” Siria shrugged again. She poked Hermione’s paper.  
“Like there’s something we can’t figure out if we put all our heads together,” Siria said. “Think about the D.A. list— more importantly,” Siria turned her attention back to the twins. “What are you planning?”  
Fred and George grinned at each other then Siria. “Well, with Dumbledore gone,” said Fred.(B5, 627)  
“We reckon a bit of mayhem,” said George. (B5, 627)  
“Is exactly what our dear new Head deserves,” said Fred. (B5, 627)  
“You could be expelled!” Hermione said. (B5, 627)  
“You don’t get it, Hermione, do you?” Fred asked with a smile. (B5, 627) “We don’t care about staying. We’d walk out now if we weren’t determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So anyway,” he checked his watch, “phase one is about to begin. Make sure you stay in the Hall, like good kiddos.” (B5, 627)  
“See you,” George smiled, as he grabbed a few more slices of bacon and left with Fred.  
“What do you suppose they’re planning?” Hermione asked Ron and Siria. Ron shrugged and took another slice of toast.  
“Less we know, the better,” Ron said. Siria nodded in agreement. Across the Great Hall, she caught Alice Travers’s eye. Alice pointed behind Siria. Siria turned and slid into Neville as she gasped.  
“You startled me,” Siria said. She glared up at the hunched figure of Argus Filch, who grinned as grotesquely as Umbridge.  
“The Headmistress would like to see you, Potter,” he leered (B5, 628).  
“You must be looking for ‘Porter’,” Siria said, “She’s in Ravenclaw.”  
“No,” said Filch, “Potter.”  
“It’s Potter-Black!” Siria shouted, as she slapped the table and rose to her feet. Professor McGonagall gave Siria a speaking glance from the staff table. “If the Headmistress is calling students, she ought to be getting their name right,” Siria said in the carrying voice she used for D.A. meetings.  
“But I’ll pay the new Head this kindness,” Siria said with a mock bow for Filch to lead the way. He did so as he hummed under his breath, occasionally saying that “things are changing”. Siria sighed as they headed to Umbridge’s office. She wondered if there were ways to boobytrap the castle’s secret passages in ways that wouldn’t stop her or the twins. Filch bragged that Umbridge asked the Minister for an order to remove Peeves. If Filch was on Umbridge’s side, Siria would have to make it an inconvenience for them… somehow. [B5, 628-629]  
Filch was more than happy to turn “the Potter girl” over to Umbridge. He bowed, genuinely, as he stepped out. The only difference to Umbridge’s office was a small wooden block on the her desk, which read “HEADMISTRESS” in lovely rose gold letters. [B5, 629]  
Umbridge ordered Siria to sit (B5, 629). Siria thought of her Occlumency practice sessions with Hermione, which weren’t as fruitful as either girl wanted. Despite herself, Siria mirrored Umbridge’s smile; it felt reflexive.  
“Well now,” Umbridge forced a smile so wide her eyes squinted at Siria. “What would you like to drink?” She asked as she surveyed Siria (B5, 629). Siria took a breath, which she held for a moment.  
“I’m fine, thank you,” Siria said.   
“Nonsense,” Umbridge said. She widened her smile at Siria, who realized they were playing ‘the Game’. Umbridge waved her wand as she offered Siria tea, coffee, and pumpkin juice, a cup of each appearing on Umbridge’s desk (B5, 629).  
Siria’s heart beat in her ears. Chloe and Aunt Petunia were masters at ‘The Game’ as Sirius called it. A play of smiles and sweetness, to cover backhanded compliments or else provide exaggerated compliments all for small manipulations to get what they wanted from someone.  
“That’s very sweet of you,” Siria said with the best smile she could manage, “but I’ve just started a cleanse.”  
“A what?” Umbridge asked through the same, wide smile.  
“Oh, a cleanse,” said Siria. “Surely someone with such good skin as yourself knows about them,” Siria gave a small wave of her hand in Umbridge’s direction as she’d seen Aunt Petunia do to Mrs. Nosey Number Three. “You know, Headmistress,” Siria said and pulled her chair forward some, “I have been meaning to ask, what moisturizer do you use?” Umbridge touched her cheek despite herself.  
Mentally, Siria nodded to herself. Umbridge, however, caught the glint of one of her rings in the cup of tea. She looked Siria square in the eye. Her smile stretched her toad mouth.  
“I wish to have a drink with you, Ms. Potter,” Umbridge said. “Surely you can’t refuse your Headmistress.”[B5,630] Siria kept her smile in place.  
“Since you went through the trouble of having these prepared,” Siria said and reached for the coffee, but Umbridge swept the cup up. She rose up with it.  
“Sugar, milk, cream?” Umbridge asked with her back turned to Siria.  
“I’d like it black,” Siria said. She always wanted to try coffee the way Remus drank it, instead of how Sirius prepared it for her, with all that honey and cream. Umbridge smiled over her shoulder at Siria, as she stirred the cup.  
“Nonsense,” Umbridge said. “Sugar and spice are what little girls are made of, like the two of us,” and she handed Siria the cup.  
“Can I?” Siria wondered at the cup. She spent enough time. There couldn’t be anything that Umbridge could ask her that could cause Siria to say something she shouldn’t. Siria smiled and, as she brought the cup to her lips, wondered if she could summon an antidote if Umbridge was just poisoning her.  
Siria tipped the cup and shuddered a little. “A little too sweet for me,” Siria said with her best smile, as she placed the cup back down on Umbridge’s desk. Umbridge gave a little, very girlish giggle. She raised a cup to Siria, who lifted her cup and tapped it into Umbridge’s. They both took a sip. Siria placed her cup back down.  
“Now then,” said Umbridge with the same stretched smile. “Where is Albus Dumbledore?” [B5, 630]  
“Somewhere,” said Siria. “I imagine he didn’t just vanish into thin air.,” she laughed.  
“Drink up,” Umbridge said and pushed the cup closer to Siria. Siria repressed rolling her eyes. Whatever was in her cup, wasn’t Veritaserum. She felt the effects of truth serum right away, so Siria finished her cup with another shiver.  
“I’m never having cream for the rest of my life,” Siria thought. Her stomach gave a little turn. “I can’t tell if it’s from the sugar or if I’ve been poisoned,” Siria forced a smile as she kept her thoughts back.  
“Where is Albus Dumbledore?” Umbridge repeated.  
“Your guess would be much better informed than mine,” Siria said.  
“Very well,” Umbridge said. She scrunched up her nose and glared at Siria’s empty cup. “Who are the members of the Order of the Phoenix?” Siria wondered if she had been interrogated enough over summer to accurately mirror the symptoms. She let her head fall a little and her eyes fluttered.  
In a clear, but disconnected voice, Siria said “The Order of the Phoenix is no longer active.” The most difficult part was probably keeping her face flat as Umbridge perked up in excitement.  
“Where is Sirius Black? What is he up to?” Umbridge asked.  
“So, the Ministry knows he’s away,” Siria thought.  
“Work. He is working,” Siria said.  
“Where? Where is he working?” Umbridge asked.  
“His company.”  
Umbridge slammed her tiny fist on her desk. “Of course, if that’s what he feeds you,” Umbridge grumbled to herself. “Is Clifford Bennett really a squib?” Umbridge asked.  
“I don’t know Clifford Bennett,” said Siria, actually honestly.  
“He calls himself—”  
BOOM! (B5, 631)  
It took all of Siria’s self control to keep her composure. She gripped the arms of the chair, for just the fraction of a second. They were released by the time Umbridge asked “What was that?”  
“Maybe a canon,” Siria said, as unhelpful as she could manage to be, while thinking of Dudley.  
Another loud BOOM made the plates on the walls shake. People screamed below. Umbridge hopped to her feet and dashed away. Siria listened until she couldn’t hear Umbridge’s footsteps anymore. [B5, 631]  
Siria turned the star dial on her school bag, then opened it. Inside were several small, cloth bags, tied with string. Siria picked two, a pink one with little watermelons on it and a red one with ladybug spots. She scanned around the room.  
In one of Umbridge’s vases of dead flowers, Siria sprinkled a little of the green powder from the watermelon bag. She put a pinch into the small container of Floo Powder on the fireplace mantel. Then Siria pulled a few red balls from the spotted bag. She put one in a cabinet and one in a drawer. Siria put the bags away then stuck her whole arm into her school bag. She groped around the bottom for what looked like a silver Sickle. Siria eyed the room with the coin in hand before deciding on placing it under Umbridge’s desk. She closed her bag, then hurried out of the room and toward another BOOM!  
Color exploded in the corridor. Siria crammed her earplugs in as another explosion vibrated the floor. Monumental chains of emerald cased a hissing silver bodied serpent of sparks. It tangled with a crimson griffin that sent slow moving red-orange stars with each flap of its mighty wings. The stars broke into small willow fireworks, which changed colors as they fell.  
Badgers of black with shimmering red-orange patterns climbed up the walls. The tracks they left behind glowed. Occasionally, a badger would explode into a shower of sparks, only to reform as two badgers, half the size.  
Bronze eagles swept up the smaller badgers in their talons. They burst the badgers into palm sized versions that rained down. Any blue feathers that fell from the eagles’ wings shot off streams of sapphire smoke, which mixed with the rainbow of fountain fireworks that was almost blinding with everything else.  
There were shocking pink Catherine wheels at least five feet tall that ripped like lethal frisbees. Dragons of green-and-gold sparks soared in the mix of it all, and caused a thunderous boom each time they opened their mouths. Rockets with tails of stars ricocheted from nowhere. Sparklers swore and blooming flowers actually bloomed sizzling flowers. [B5, 632]  
Filch chased a Catherine wheel with a broom. Umbridge shot a red beam at a rocket, which, rather than stopping, exploded into a smoking purple bat. The bat zoomed toward Umbridge. She shrieked and fired another red jet, which missed. Inches from her, the bat burst into a splatter of bronze that painted Umbridge and the surrounding floor. [B5, 633] “Don’t stun them, Filch!” Umbridge shouted like Filch, a Squib, suggested it (B5, 633).  
Siria laughed as she dashed down the hall, to a door, concealed behind a tapestry. It was close enough to hear Umbridge shouting more pointless instruction and Filch agreeing. She squeezed in with Fred and George, who had tears in their eyes. [B5, 633]  
“Even Hermione’ll be impressed,” Siria said with an honest smile. “I almost feel sorry for Dr. Filibuster.” [B5, 633]  
“Cheers,” George whispered as he wiped away tears. “Hope she tries to Vanish them next… they multiply by ten every time you try…” [B5, 633]  
“Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-Bangs,” Fred said with pride (B5, 634). “Just wait until she tries to Silence them,” he winked at Siria. “You’ll want to keep your earplugs in.”  
“You know…” Siria paused. “I liked your color selection.” Fred looked to George with a glance that spoke enough. “You can at least make the badgers and griffins gold.”  
“We weren’t sure,” said Fred with a small side-to-side bob of his head.  
“If it’d be like the noise,” said George with the same, synced bob. Without naming the kitchen incident.  
“We made silent ones,” said Fred with a nod as George did the same.  
“But needed something to really get Umbridge,” said George.  
“You made silent fireworks?” Siria asked. George shrugged.  
“You ought to be able to enjoy fireworks as much as anyone else.”  
Fireworks continued through the rest of the day. For as much as they were disruptive, none of the teachers seemed bothered. If anything, they seemed amused. Professor McGonagall sent Lavender Brown to get Umbridge when a dragon wandered into Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick called Umbridge to remove the swearing sparklers because, though he could have gotten rid of them, “I wasn’t sure whether I had the authority…” [B5, 634]  
The fact Umbridge spent her first day as Headmistress rushing around the castle to chase away fires was the last highlight of May.


	37. O.W.L.s

**O.W.L.s**   


Warm summer rays showered the castle grounds from the cloudless sky. Younger students enjoyed the gentle breezes or temperate water of the Lake. June arrived and, with it, the final stretch before the fifth years’ O.W.L.s. [B5, 706]  
Classes were all review, without homework. All subjects focused on the upcoming exams. At least two explosions happened in Professor Chaudhary’s classroom during each of Siria’s independent study sessions, though she had only caused one of them. Ron assured Siria she had nothing to worry about, as Seamus Finnegan managed to melt through another cauldron and Hannah Abbott had knocked hers over. [B5, 706]  
Hermione handed Colin Creevey all of Siria’s foreign spellbooks, expect for the two Siria happened to have in her bag. “You’re not being tested on them anyway,” Hermione told Siria before she dove back into her Arithmancy textbook. With her studying schedule, they had time for half an hour of Occlumency a night, followed by a half hour of stretching and clearing their minds before bed. Siria honestly felt the stretching helped more than the Occlumency.  
Siria adjusted her and Ron’s bags on her shoulder as Ernie Macmillan interrogated their study habits. Ron was caught off guard when Ernie said he got at least eight everyday. He took his bag from Siria and pretended to look for something, as Ernie turned his focus to her. [B5, 706]  
“I’m getting an hour in before breakfast,” Ernie continued to explain (B5, 707). Siria inhaled the moment Ernie let out his breath.  
“It’s the quality— not the quantity of study,” Siria said. “You could study fifteen hours, but, if you’re not studying in a way that helps you retain the information and lets you perform the spell, it’s not going to do you any good, is it?”  
“Well, I mean,” but Ernie was saved explaining what he meant by Professor Sprout calling them into the greenhouse.  
“Do you suppose we ought to be studying more?” Ron asked out of the corner of his mouth. Siria put her bag on the ground.  
“We couldn’t study enough to do as well as Hermione, but, anything you’re worried about, we’ll do together,” Siria said.  
“You aren’t worried?” Ron asked. She shrugged as she pulled on her dragonhide gloves.  
“Enough to puke my guts out, but I can’t really let anyone other than you and Hermione know.”  
On their way back from Care of Magical Creatures, a few days before exams would start, Malfoy told Goyle “Of course, it’s not what you know, but who you know. Griselda Marchbanks, head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, is a family friend.”  
“Do you think that’s true?” Hermione asked as she linked her arm through Siria’s.  
“Only an idiot would rely on connections to pass an exam,” Siria said louder than she needed to. Malfoy glared over his shoulder. She cocked her chin up, but Malfoy turned back to the castle. [B5, 707]  
“I don’t think it is true,” Neville whispered to Hermione. “She’s a friend of my gran’s and she’s never mentioned the Malfoys.” (B5, 707)  
“What’s she like, Neville?” Hermione asked. “Is she strict?”(B5, 707) Siria chuckled. Hermione ignored her as Neville explained that Griselda Marchbanks was a lot like his gran and that knowing her wouldn’t help him any. “Gran’s always telling Professor Marchbanks I’m not as good as my dad… Well… you saw what she’s like at St. Mungo’s…” (B5, 707). His eyes dropped the grass.  
“Siria could help in Transfiguration!” Ron threw out. He shrugged at Siria’s look. “You’ve got Defense Against the Dark Arts in the bag,” Hermione told Neville. “You did really well in the D.A.,” she said and glanced to Siria.  
“Really well!” Siria agreed with an exaggerated nod.  
Whether their encouragement was a enough or Neville didn’t really need it, he managed to stay away from the flourishing black-market of concentration aids, mental agility boosters, and magical wakefulness solutions (B5, 707). Hermione confiscated more than half of them, by herself, and proved many of them to on the level of dried doxy droppings or hair tonics (B5, 708). There was only one trusted wakefulness solution.  
Fred and George made a small fortune off their One-Eye Open Solution, which turned out to be the secret to Hermione’s long nights. One drop in your drink at dinner was guaranteed to keep you up through the night, “But there’s a two night in a row limit!” George reminded Siria when he handed her a bottle the size of her index finger. Siria rolled her eyes as she held the Galleon out.  
“We’re not taking your money,” he said. She looked him in the eye. He crossed his arms and shook his head at her. “With all the money you’ve put in? And product suggestions? Fred and I agreed ages ago— not a Knut from either of you.”  
“I’m sharing with Hermione and Ron, it’s part theirs,” Siria insisted.  
“Then good for them to have a mate so well connected,” George said. Siria sighed, but pocketed it and the Galleon. “That a girl,” and George patted Siria’s wild dark hair. He smirked when it bounced right back up. “Go get those twelve O.W.L.s.”  
“I’m only taking nine!”

Professor McGonagall explained that fifth years would sit their theory exams in the mornings and practical in the afternoon. The exception was Astronomy, which had a morning exam but after dark practical. Exams would be broken up over two weeks. She went over the list of banned items like Auto-Answer Quills and Remembralls. Professor McGonagall paused and sighed. [B5, 708-709]  
“Of course, your examination results will reflect upon the headmistress's new regime at the school,” she said, “that is no reason not to do your very best. You have your own futures to think about.” Professor McGonagall went on to let them know their results would arrive some time in July. [B5, 709]   
The evening before exams, Siria made Hermione leave her books in Gryffindor Tower. She hoped it would make Hermione take a break from all of their studying. “What was the Counter-Charm again?” Hermione asked for the fourth time since they sat down. Ron glared at Siria.  
“Hermione, just use ‘finite’,” Siria said, as she put another roll on Hermione’s plate. Hermione put down the last piece of her shredded dinner roll to pick up the new one.  
“Honestly, Siria ‘just use ‘Finite’,” Hermione grumbled and shook her head. “I’m sure that’s a completely acceptable way to counter the hiccups of an overpowered Cheering Charm.” Fortunately, Neville remembered.  
“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Siria said, “but why isn’t Latin an option? I mean, we don’t have any language classes, but ‘finite’, ‘lumos’, you know.” Hermione gave an extremely annoyed and exaggerated roll of her eyes.  
“Why don’t we just trap a bunch of magical youths together with the knowledge to create their own spells, because that couldn’t possibly go wrong?” Hermione asked. “You’d have people running around hexing each other accidently or calling up magic they can’t control. For as much as I can’t stand the Ministry, there’s a reason we learn Ministry-Approved magic. These spells have been tested relentlessly.”  
“But the magic I’ve been reading is just the language they speak and it’s worked fine,” Siria said. Hermione sighed as she picked up another dinner roll to tear apart.  
“That works for them and that’s great,” Hermione said. “I mean, ‘Point Me’ is in English, isn’t it? It just isn’t the normal circumstance because, since our older spells are in Latin, it’s a proven method.” Hermione paused, mid-tear on her roll.  
“Siria, have you been experimenting with spell making?” Hermione asked. Siria turned her head away, to the doors of the Great Hall.  
“Hey,” she said a little loudly, “that looks like the examiners.”  
“Siria, don’t you— really?” Hermione asked and got to her feet. “Umbridge looks nervous,” she smiled.  
“Shall we go and have a closer look?” Ron proposed. They agreed and headed to the doors. [B5, 710]  
“No idea where he is, I suppose?” Professor Marchbanks asked Umbridge about Dumbledore. Umbridge shot Siria a malevolent look as she confessed the Ministry didn’t know, but would catch him. “I doubt it,” Professor Marchbanks said. “Examined him personally in Transfiguration and Charms for his N.E.W.T.s… did things with a wand I’d never seen before…” [B5, 711]  
“Yes… well…” Umbridge said as she sharpened her glare at Siria, who laced her boot up, as though it came untied, as an excuse to eavesdrop. Siria tightened the laces when something on Professor Marchbanks’s robes caught her eye.  
“Excuse me,” Siria called as she approached. Hermione’s fingers tugged at the fabric on Siria’s blouse, but she grabbed on too late to stop her. “Professor Marchbanks,” Siria said, “that broach,” and Siria gestured to the golden badger with onyx eyes that clung onto her royal violet robes.  
“Ah, yes,” Professor Marchbanks nodded at Siria’s scar. “I’d expect you to spot a Causer original.” Her tiny, wrinkled hand picked the badger off her robes. It curled up on her palm and froze, as though stunned. “Your father had it made especially for me,” she said, as she extended it for Siria to see better. “I see you appreciate it well,” she said at Siria’s smile, which was more for the steam from Umbridge’s ears than the fine details carved into the badger.  
“Dear, I’m expecting great things from you,” Professor Marchbanks told Siria. “Though, I expect there isn’t a witch or wizard who isn’t, I had the pleasure of examining your mother and father— Lily Evans and Sirius Black though, Professor Tofty,” she said and turned her handsome face to her old and equally small college. “If I’m not mistaken, you examined James Potter, did you not?”  
“James Potter, very talented in Transfiguration,” Professor Tofty gave a small nod, almost as if he were falling asleep. “Such a shame, the Potters. We can’t go easy on you, dear,” he told Siria. “Lots of people were hurt by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, you’ll be examined to the same measure.”  
“I’d be disappointed otherwise,” Siria smiled. “Thank you, Professor Marchbanks, Professor Tofty,” she gave a small bow of her head. As Siria turned to leave, she winked to Umbridge before she linked her arm with Hermione’s.  
“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Neville said. “I could never do something like that in front of Umbridge.” Siria linked her other arm with Neville’s and smiled at him.  
“Don’t go thinking I forgot about you standing up to us first year,” Siria said. “Even Dumbledore said it was really brave…” Siria paused and looked to Hermione.  
“What?” she asked.  
“Dumbledore said something about how it’s hard to stick up to your friends,” Siria said.  
“Yes,” Hermione nodded.  
“Wait,” Ron said. “You don’t think he was talking about…” Ron gave Siria a firm look over his shoulder. She nodded.  
“Talking about what?” Neville asked. Siria nudged him with her shoulder.  
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think he wants it kept secret,” Siria said, “and that I ought to, but, Neville, I think eleven-year-old you was braver than seventeen-year-old Dumbledore.”  
Even Parvati and Lavender were silent as they got ready for bed. They each climbed into their beds and listened to the others. Siria’s stomach turned more with each anxious shift and huffy sigh. She pulled her curtains open and glanced at the other beds.  
“I’m going down to the common room,” Siria said. “I’m taking some One-Eye Open Solution and I’m not sleeping tonight.”  
“Same!” Hermione cried and leapt from her bed.  
“Do you have enough to share?” Parvati asked.  
“Fred and George gave me another bottle,” Siria said as she climbed into her trunk. “No studying is the only rule.”  
“Then count me in,” Fay said. Fay and Lavender helped Siria carry some board games down to the common room. Siria snuck up to Ron’s dorm.  
“Wha—” Ron startled and jerked the blanket up over him. Siria sighed. “You can’t share my bed if Hermione kicked you out unless you… change,” he whispered. Siria rolled her eyes.  
“I’m not sleeping,” Siria said. “We’re playing board games in the common room,” she shook the little bottle of wakefulness. Ron threw the blanket off.  
“Be right down,” he said.  
“Um…” Neville whispered. Siria looked to him.  
“You coming?” She asked. Neville, Dean, and Seamus came down with Ron.  
Fruits, sweets, and cocoa cluttered one of the tables by the fire. Dobby leaned around the table to smile at Siria. “Miss Siria, Dobby is very happy to bring you anything else. Clau was saying that she is very happy Miss Hermione and her friends is so polite with their ‘thank yous’ and their ‘pleases’ and so we oughts to be helpful,” Dobby said. “Dobby is of course happy to be helpful without the ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’.”  
“Well, there will always be a ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to you, if I can help it,” Siria said. “Thank you, Dobby.” He gave a small bow of his tiny head before he Apparated away.  
As the night continued, other restless students came down. Any who happened to have board games brought them, as students increased and spread out. Sometime after one, Hermione stopped running up to check spells as she played Neville, Ron, and Siria in Chinese chequers.  
When the sun rose, they cleaned up and went down for breakfast, a large, lively group of laughing Gryffindors. Parvati held Siria’s hand and smiled at the Mood Polish. They were almost the same shade of blue-green. “We’re practically twins,” Siria joked.  
“Don’t tell Padma,” Parvati said. “She thinks you can only have one twin.”  
“You might not want to introduce her to Lavender then,” she said. They laughed, knowing it wasn’t all that funny, but it was relieving. When they returned from breakfast, exams would be upon them. It felt like their last chance to laugh before their futures were decided.  
After breakfast, the fifth and seventh years waited in the entrance hall as the others headed to lessons. “You’ve got this!” Colin Creevey shouted to Siria. She waved. He and Dennis howled at Siria. Her face went so scarlet it hurt, but she squeezed her eyes shut and howled back. The laughs outnumbered the glares.  
“You’re in better spirits than I thought,” Cassius said as he and the others came over.  
“You competed in the Triwizard Tournament together,” Cedric said, “I’d think you’re fine with pressure.”  
“It’s because we competed together that he knows my stomach is eating itself,” Siria joked and squeezed her stomach playfully.  
“Did you have a late night cram session or something?” Maddy asked.  
“We played games,” Neville said. He looked to the floor when the others looked at them.  
“What do you mean you played?” Bianca Storm asked. “If you don’t pass your O.W.L.s, you’ll be laughing stocks.”  
“Taking a break won’t kill them,” Patricia said. She gave Neville a kind smile and he nodded, but couldn’t look her in the eye.  
“I might suggest that tonight,” Cedric said, “if you don’t mind.” Siria laughed.  
“Actually, Ced, we’ve got the rights to pre-test game night,” Siria said. “You should’ve been in Gryffindor,” and she stuck her tongue out.  
The doors of the Great Hall opened. Her stomach sank through the floor as her nails turned anxious red-orange. Hermione linked her arm through Siria’s and Ron’s. She smiled up at the two of them. “Good luck, everyone,” she told them. Her own nails were an almost glowing orange.  
“Strong as we are united,” Siria said.  
They entered the Great Hall together. The House tables were replaced with individual desks. Cassius nodded to Siria, as he continued to the back with the other seventh years. Siria took her seat and hoped her heart wouldn’t explode. Somehow, she heard Professor McGonagall announce “You may begin” over the thunderous beat in her ears. The pieces of parchment turned over as the hourglass started. Siria closed her eyes and took a deep breath. [B5, 712]

“If it’s so important to know the time, get a watch,” Siria said as she shook her watch off and slapped it into Hermione’s hand. “That’s the fifth time you’ve taken my arm and it’s only been a half hour.”  
“Sorry,” Hermione sighed. She fastened the watch around her wrist. “I’m just so nervous… what if I get a really strict examiner?”  
“McGonagall is our Head of House,” Ron said. “Who could be more strict than her?”  
“What if I panic?” Hermione asked while she picked lettuce off her plate. “What if I’m asked to change a teapot into a tortoise and I turn into… into,” she sighed “not a tortoise…”  
“Just shoot birds out of your wand to distract them while you fix it,” Ron suggested. Siria nodded as she refilled their goblets.  
“What if I’m asked to turn water into rum and I turn it into pumpkin juice?” Hermione asked.  
“Honestly, I’d rather have pumpkin juice,” Siria said as she put down her goblet.  
“Hermione, if you don’t eat something, you’ll be too hungry to focus,” Ron said and slapped a large scoop of vegetables onto her plate. She eyed them like they were a dragon. Siria swept a scoop onto her spoon.  
“Does ‘Mione need the airplane?” Siria asked while she bounced the spoon on her finger and smirked at Hermione.  
“You wouldn’t dare…”  
Hermione did not speak to Siria the rest of lunch. She kept silent through her name getting called and, like the others, did not return after her exam. Ron and Siria leaned back to back as they waited to be called. Occasionally Siria would knock her head into Ron’s and ask “but it was funny, wasn’t it?” or note “I picked the peas out of her hair, didn’t I?” Ron would give an agreeing grunt or non-committal “yeah.”  
Professor Flitwick called Siria with some others. She waved to Ron and entered the Great Hall. Siria caught sight of Malfoy being tested by Professor Marchbanks a few people away. Her hand jerked with the urge to pull the wine glass he levitated toward her, but she clenched her fist and pulled on a smile instead. [B5, 713]  
“That’s the spirit,” old Professor Tofty told her. “Now, if you would please make this tea cup dance for me.” (B5, 713)  
Though Siria felt she did well enough on Charms to pass, she felt confident with Transfiguration. “For a bonus point,” she Transfigured her hair from its wild black mane to thin, dark red. Herbology went as well as she could have hoped. Defense Against the Dark Arts went better than Siria thought it would. She finished the written exam with time to go over her answers and for another bonus point produced a Patronus Charm for Professor Tofty. [B5, 714]  
Hagrid gave Siria an ear to ear grin and wide wave as she headed back to the castle after her Care of Magical Creatures practical O.W.L. She returned the wave and smile while she hoped she did well enough to warrant his enthusiasm. “It was easy enough,” she told herself. They had to find a knarl in a dozen hedgehogs, pick a diet for a sick unicorn, handle a bowtruckle, then feed and clean a firecrab without major injury. She rubbed a small bit of her burn healing paste on her finger, which was one of the smaller injuries she saw. [B5, 717]  
Divination went even more poorly than Siria could have foreseen. After twenty minutes of not being able to see anything, she sighed and looked at Professor Marchbanks. “I’m no good with Divination,” Siria said. “About all I can see is that I’m not going to pass, and I wouldn’t continue even if I could.”  
“You would like to quit the subject?” Professor Marchbanks asked over her clipboard.  
“I’d rather call it a ‘graceful resign from the subject’, but yeah,” Siria said. She eyed Siria for a moment; her gaze wandered over the lightning scar and hung on Siria’s eyes.  
“You have your mother’s eyes,” Professor Marchbanks said and gave a small smile as Siria repressed eye roll. “I’m sure you’ve heard it often enough.” Professor Marchbanks rested her clipboard on the table. “I remember Lily Evans, very talents in Charms, magical and social. She seemed fearless during her practical N.E.W.T.s.” Siria leaned forward, to hear Professor Marchbanks’s quiet voice better.  
“I’ve found there isn’t an examinee that I can’t remember,” Professor Marchbanks said. She lifted her teacup and saucer with a gentle smile. “Not just the Albus Dumbledores, Tom Riddles— oh yes,” she nodded at Siria’s widened eyes, “but the ‘Joe Schomos’ as they’re called. Even if someone doesn’t show exceptional magical talent at O.W.L. or N.E.W.T., you never know what they are great in. I believe it’s never too late to bloom into who you are meant to be.  
“They expect things greater than Lily Evans or James Potter or Sirius Black could achieve. The world expects Dumbledore level things from you, magical or otherwise,” she said. Professor Marchbanks drew a line down the rest of her page. “Bloom well, Ms. Potter-Black.”

At eleven o’clock, it was a clear dark night for Astronomy (B5, 718). Professors Marchbanks and Tofty strolled the rooftop while students searched to fill their star charts (B5, 718). Siria found Vega in the sky then filled the rest of the Summer Triangle by memory. She sighed as she filled in Draco, after finding its head. Siria added Mars as the doors of the castle opened and half a dozen figures stepped onto the lawn.  
They moved in silence, with their wands at the ready, but unlit (B5, 719). Siria held her eyepiece in one hand and pocketed her other hand. She closed her eyes and thought of the little brown capsules she dropped back in February. “[Grow]” Siria told them. “[Grow!]” She thought as she gestured with both of her hands. Someone gasped and Siria shot up to look.  
“It’s beautiful!” Lavender announced as she pointed to the grounds. Quicker than dye in water, flamingo pink luminescent moss took over the grass. It cast light on the half dozen figures cloaked in black, who leapt onto Hagrid’s porch like the moss would burn through their shoes.  
Siria leaned over the wall to better scowl at two familiar faces: Umbridge’s and the Auror from Dumbledore’s office. Ron grabbed Siria’s arm. He looked her in the eye and shook his head.  
“Really,” Professor Tofty said as he approached them. “This is an examination.”  
“Go back to your chart,” Siria whispered to Ron. He pressed his lips together with a face that said he didn’t approve of leaving. “Go!” She mouthed. Ron huffed, but left as Professor Tofty reached Siria. She shot a final glare at Umbridge, as Hagrid let Umbridge in, before Siria turned to Professor Tofty.  
“Like Ms. Brown said, it’s very lovely,” Siria said. “What do you suppose caused it?” Professor Tofty squinted down at the figures that remained on Hagrid’s porch. One of them gave several silent exaggerated waves of their wand, which did nothing to the moss.  
“I’m not sure, but certainly nothing to do with Astronomy,” he patted the air above Siria’s shoulder. She sighed, but returned to her test. She added Saturn then looked back to Hagrid’s.  
One of the Aurors was making progress with the moss. They appeared to vacuum it up with the tip of their wand. Siria knew it wasn’t what was actually happening, but also knew she couldn’t figure it out from the Astronomy tower. Whatever Umbridge was up to in there, couldn’t be good.  
BANG! (B5, 720)  
Hagrid’s door burst open as he and Fang tried to flee the jets of red that seemed to bounce of him. A man cried for Hagrid to “be reasonable.” Hagrid roared back. “Reasonable be damned, yeh won’ take me like this Dawlish!” The Aurors on the porch turned their wands to Hagrid, but their spells bounced off. One of them hit Fang with a Stunning Spell. Hagrid howled. He slammed into the Auror that stunned Fang, swept him off the ground with one hand, and threw him. The Auror did not move. [B5, 720-721]  
“What can we do?” Ron asked as he and Hermione met Siria at the edge. “Can your moss attack?”  
“That’s yours?” Hermione asked and looked to the grounds to inspect the moss like it would make Siria’s name. “It’s McGonagall!” She pointed down. [B5, 721]  
“Leave him alone! Alone, I say!” Professor McGonagall instructed as she marched toward them. “On what grounds are you attacking him?” She withdrew her wand and knocked away a Stunning Spell like it was a tennis ball. “How dare you!” [B5, 721]  
Siria grabbed Hermione’s barrette. “Sorry,” she said as she pulled it from Hermione’s bushy hair. Siria chucked it down at the ground. She pointed her wand at it while she gestured with her free hand. “[Become a shield]!” She shouted “Integumentum! Shield her!” The small barrette morphed as it bore into the ground. Now a tall, ornamental wall, it reflected two red jets of light. One hit its sender.  
Professor McGonagall dueled two Aurors and Umbridge as she shouted for them to leave Hagrid alone. Hagrid slammed another Auror into the ground, who remained down. He looked to Professor McGonagall. “You’ve no grounds to attack us!” Professor McGonagall told them. “I’ve only defended myself and you come at me like cowards.”  
“Siria!” Parvati slapped her palm sized, golden butterfly hairpin into Siria’s hand. “That one’s going around the back!” She pointed to the Auror who managed to vacuum up some of the moss earlier. [B5, 721]  
With even more force than the last one, Siria threw the hairpin down. Four jets of red fired at Professor McGonagall from different directions. The butterfly pin landed, nearly as large as the castle doors, so close to one of the Aurors it knocked them back, too late to stop their spell. In a single blink, four Stunning Spells hit Professor McGonagall. [B5, 721]  
Hagrid shouted “COWARDS!” He took the closest Auror and threw them at Umbridge. Both collapsed. Hagrid swept Fang onto his shoulders and ran into the forest. [B5, 722]  
Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike were petrified on the tower top. Professor Tofty’s feeble voice said “Five minutes…”  
“But why sack Hagrid now?” Angelina Johnson asked as the fifth years finished recounting what they saw from the Tower top.  
“Umbridge hates part humans,” Hermione said with a bitter glare to the fire. “She was always going to get rid of him, even if he wasn’t so close to Dumbledore.”  
“And she thought Hagrid was putting nifflers in her office,” piped Katie Bell.  
“Oh blimey,” said Lee Jordan. He covered his mouth and looked to Fred and George. “It was us.”  
“She would have got him for something else,” said Fred.  
“It was just a matter of time,” added George, though he reeked of guilt. [B5, 723-724]  
“I just hope Professor McGonagall’s all right,” said Lavender (B5, 724). She wiped at her eyes.  
“She took enough to stun a dragon,” Siria said, “but she’s always been strong…” she shook her head.  
“McGonagall could have taken any of them one-on-one,” said Angelina and punched her fist into her palm.  
“She could have taken them three-on-one,” said Parvati. “She was doing fine until that fourth one got behind her.” Parvati shuddered and looked to Siria. Though Siria shrunk and summoned Parvati’s and Hermione’s accessories back, neither had put them back in. Parvati stroked her butterfly hairpin. “I should have noticed faster,” she said. Lavender put her arm around Parvati and nuzzled her.  
“You were the only one who noticed,” said Fay. “I hope that Auror wet themselves or worse!”  
They sighed. Slowly, students went back up to bed. In the case of the fifth years, headed to their dorms for the night. Hermione eyed Siria’s watch as they climbed their stairs.  
“Siria!” Hermione said and pressed Siria’s watch into her face. “Look!”  
“Yes— very late,” Siria said as she pulled her face away.  
“No, Sirius,” Hermione said. Siria looked. For the first time since January, the thin rune covered wand hand of her watch was at 3 o’clock. Sirius Black was finally home.


	38. Nightmares and Terrors

**Nightmares and Terrors**   


“What do you mean you can’t talk right now?” Siria cried at Sirius, his face reflected in her compact mirror. Hermione glared at Sirius from Siria’s shoulder as she hugged her arm. Sirius sighed.  
“Sirai, it’s very late and you need to sleep,” Sirius said. “You have exams and I’ve business for the Order.”  
“To hell with exams!” Siria shouted. “Did you only come back for Order business?” Sirius hung his coat on the chair of his study.  
“You’ll be coming home for summer soon—”  
“So you don’t have an answer?” Siria scoffed. “I’m going to die and you’re going to just guard some old stupid prophecy just because Voldemort wants it and it’s the only thing you can deny him!”  
“Siria,” he said in a calm and level tone that made her blood boil. “It’s complicated.”  
“Oh! Well, I’m so sorry it’s complicated for you,” she shouted into the mirror and hated it. This wasn’t what she wanted to say. She didn’t mean it, she couldn’t mean it— “I’ll just let Voldemort bleeding kill me then and make it simple for you!” Siria slammed the mirror closed and threw it.  
Hermione wrapped Siria in her arms. She combed Siria’s hair with her fingers, as frustration escaped her in tears. Siria sniffled and rubbed her nose on her sleeve cuff.  
“I don’t want to die,” Siria cried as Hermione held her. “And I don’t want to be so damn anxious all the time.”  
“I know,” Hermione whispered. “We’ll find a way. There has to be another way.”

This was wrong. Worse than sneaking out after curfew. Worse than shattering the Dursley’s kitchen and running away. Someone would hear her deafening heart bursting through her veins as she opened the plain black door and entered a room of matching ones. The door she entered closed and the room’s round wall spun.  
It was easy to find the right door. The door practically called to her. It pulled at her heart like a string. She ignored the glittering gold room it lead to. The ticks and chimes were a dull hum beneath her heart. She had to continue onward. [B5, 727]  
“This was it,” she knew the moment her hand touched the door. Towers of shelves with blue smoke trapped in glass orbs. Her feet knew where to go, despite not ever having been. She reached row ninety-seven and turned left. [B5, 727]  
Something was on the floor. Something that shouldn’t be here even more than her. It looked like a wounded animal, in that curled position, until it cried out in pain from a cold, high “Crucio!” [B5, 727]  
“Lift it down, now,” her high, cold voice told the crumpled man on the floor. “I cannot touch it, but you can…”  
“You’ll have to kill me,” Sirius whispered weakly. [B5, 727]  
“DAD!” Siria screamed as she woke, on the floor of her trunk, cuddled by a startled awake Hermione. She pressed her watch to her face. Sirius was at the Ministry… with Voldemort. “Kreacher!” Siria cried as Hermione grumbled.  
CRACK!  
“Kreacher,” Siria gasped and got to her feet. “I need you to take me to the Department of Mysteries.” Kreacher’s smile fell off his face as his gaze hit the floor. He shook his head and mumbled. “Kreacher, Voldemort is going to kill Sirius— I can feel it, I saw it!”  
“Kreacher will not,” Kreacher said.  
“What?” Siria breathed.  
“Kreacher will not take Mistress to the Ministry,” he told the floor.  
“Siria, what are you—” Hermione started, but Siria raised her hand. She glared down at Kreacher.  
“Sirius will die.”  
“Master Sirius knows the risk. He tells Kreacher the Ministry is no place for Mistress,” Kreacher said. Her breath trembled in her chest.  
“Fine,” Siria said. “Leave.”  
“Mistress,” Kreacher started and reached for her hand.  
“LEAVE!” Siria shouted at him, as she stepped back from him.  
“Kreacher will not lose Mistress Siria like Kreacher lost Master Regulus,” he said before he Apparated away.  
“Get out of the trunk,” Siria told Hermione as she grabbed her by her arm.  
“Siria, what is happening? You shouldn’t be seeing anything,” Hermione said. She winced when Siria yanked her from the trunk.  
“Wha’s happenin’?” Fay yawned at them.  
“Nothing,” Siria snapped as she slammed her trunk close and turned to the cotton candy star point of the dial. She threw the lid open, took her school bag, and hurried into the Potion room. Siria dumped the contents of her bag on the floor as she walked to the cupboard.  
“Just go back to bed,” Siria shouted to Hermione, who came down the stairs. “I’m going to save Sirius.”  
“How Siria?” Hermione asked. “It’s two in the morning. What are you going to do? March into the village and call the Knight Bus?”  
“If I can’t get a house elf to take me— probably,” Siria said as she threw a belt over her shoulder. Hermione walked backward up the stairs as Siria moved with the intent of plowing her over.  
“Think about it,” Hermione pleaded as Siria turned to the dial to the Amethyst point. She opened up the storage room.  
“Sirius would want you to stay here,” Hermione said as Siria summoned up clothes. “He and Remus didn’t just travel the world for you to—”  
“THERE IS NO ‘OTHER WAY’!” Siria shouted. “They traveled the world and do you know what they found: nothing. Hermione, if I have to roll over and let Voldemort murder me— it’s going to be on my terms and buy someone else another day.”  
“You’re going tonight?” Lavender asked from her four poster. She, Parvati, and Fay had opened their bed curtains.  
“In that?” Parvati asked as Siria fastened the belt through her pants.  
“Yeah,” Siria snapped. “What of it?”  
Fay sighed and pulled on her jeans as she stepped out of bed. “Obviously we’re helping.”  
“Ha!” Siria scoffed. “In your dreams.”  
“How are you getting there?” Parvati asked as she slid onto her feet.  
“Dobby!” Siria called.  
CRACK!  
Dobby put a piece of parchment down.  
CRACK!  
“What the—” Siria swept the parchment up and read:  
Misstress,  
Kreacher will not let Misstress make Masters misstakes.  
Kreacher is not sorry.  
She read over the parchment again. “The Knight Bus, then,” Siria said as she crumpled the parchment and threw it to the floor.  
“What will they think when five underage girls summon it in the middle of the night?” Lavender asked.  
“You’re not coming!” Siria shouted at them as she fought her hair into a ponytail. She couldn’t think over their shouts and argument against her. “Fine!” Siria barked. “If you can figure out how to get there, you can come.”  
“Umbridge’s fire,” Parvati said. “Umbridge told me, when she interrogated me about you— I didn’t say anything—” she added quickly, “that every fireplace was being watched, expect for hers.”  
“We’ll need something to get her away,” Lavender said.  
“Okay,” Siria said. She stopped pacing. Siria closed her eyes and took a breath. The other girls’ clothing shuffled as they reddied.  
“Okay,” Siria repeated as she opened her eyes. “I’m open to opinions, but I’ve got a plan...”

 

Explosions shook the very foundation of the castle. Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil cluttered around the Marauder's Map with Hermione, Ron, and Siria, in the boys’ dorm. Siria took a deep breath and looked to Parvati and Seamus, who both nodded at her.  
“Just remember step three,” Siria said as she watched Umbridge’s dot on the Map run toward the continued explosions. She glanced to Colin and Dennis Creevey’s dots, in the entrance hall with Lee Jordan. Fred and George were in the corridor near the trophy room. Fay and Mandy were between the dungeons and trophy room, to stop the Inquisitorial Squad if they went that way.  
Parvati took Siria’s hand and squeezed it. “Go save your dad!” She and Seamus stayed behind with the Map and most of Siria’s pocket mirrors. Siria opened her Black Family Crest compact, with no reply, as she hurried down the stairs. Dean, Ginny, Lavender, and Neville followed closely behind Hermione and Ron, who were on Siria’s heels.  
“Go back to your dorm!” Ron told Ginny for at least the third time, as they climbed down the dorm stairs.  
“No! You didn’t hear Siria yelling bloody murder,” Ginny snapped. “I’m saving Sirius too.”  
“Ron, you’re not going to persuade her otherwise,” Hermione said as they climbed through the portrait hole.  
“My word!” The Fat Lady cried. “What in Merlin’s name is happening?”  
“I’m going to fight Voldemort,” Siria said, unconcerned with the Fat Lady’s flinch. “We’re taking over the castle and I’m breaking out.” The Fat Lady rose her head up and looked to Siria.  
“If you don’t want to tell me, don’t make such an outlandish lie,” she said. Siria shook her head, as she hopped onto the rail of the stairs and slid down.  
As she leapt down and onto the next staircase, she opened her compact again. Nothing. “The Inquisitorial Squad is coming with Filch!” Parvati's voice shouted from Siria’s jacket breast pocket.  
“Siria, take the passage by the ticklish door,” Seamus instructed from the same place. She nodded, though they couldn’t see, and hurried on ahead.  
“Malfoy and Greengrass have broken off from the Squad,” Seamus warned. “They’re on your trail, Warrington.”  
“Not for long,” Padma Patil said. “Tell us how to head them off, Parvati.”  
“Padma?” Parvati asked.  
“Tell us!” someone snapped. “And I want a full explanation, yesterday.” Siria could barely make out their voice. It was like hearing someone yell in the background of someone’s call.  
“Storm?” Siria asked.  
“What’re we doing?” Cedric asked. “No— how can we help?”  
Parvati directed the Slytherins and Ravenclaws. Seamus guided the Gryffindors. With Cedric’s Map, Susan Bones lead her fellow Hufflepuffs. Beside Susan, Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley found alternate routes until—  
Siria skidded to a stop in the corridor of Umbridge’s office. She raised the hand with the gold ring and Cassius did the same. He approached with Alice, Maddy, and Patricia. Siria did the same with Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Neville— Dean and Lavender each having broken off to ensure Siria reached the fire.  
Cedric stepped out from behind a portrait with Lily Moon and, Siria paused, Luna Lovegood. Luna looked as though she may have just wandered into the corridor by mistake. /she adjusted her dirty blonde hair around her wand, tucked behind her ear and smiled at Siria. “Ginny told me you might need help,” Luna said.  
“Look,” Siria addressed the corridor. “It’s one thing to help me get this far, but any further and you’ll be a step from death. Voldemort is at the Ministry and the goal is to get my dad out. Anyone who comes puts themself at risk and—”  
“Right over easy,” Patricia said.  
“Right over easy,” Maddy agreed.  
“Isn’t that was Dumbledore's Army was for? To fight Vol— Voldemort!” Neville said. He fell silent at the eyes on him and stared directly at Siria.  
“Someone needs to contact the Order— McGonagall is in no condition, but I know how to contact Flint,” said Cassius.  
“Professor Snape—” Hermione started. Siria groaned and glared at Hermione.  
“Siria doesn’t trust Snape,” Cassius said. “I’ll go to Flint, someone will go to Snape, so we know the Order gets it.” He clapped his hand on Siria’s shoulder. They shared a speaking look, and Siria nodded. Cassius tried Umbridge’s door then tapped it with his wand.  
“I’ll go tell Professor Snape,” Lily Moon said. She glanced to Cedric, who nodded. “Is there anything I should tell him?” She asked Siria.  
“Just look him right in the eye when you tell him,” Siria said. Lily Moon nodded. She reached to pat Siria’s shoulder as well, but retracted her hand. “Good luck, Siria.”  
“Thank you,” Siria said. “Same to you,” and Lily Moon hurried back the way she came.  
“Luck,” Hermione whispered. Hermione looked to Ginny and pulled her close as Cassius burned Umbridge’s door down. Alice, Cedric, Maddy, and Patricia stepped into the room after Cassius. Neville, Ron, and Siria followed. Ginny glanced to the office then Hermione and nodded. Hermione handed Ginny her compact, and Ginny bolted away.  
“Don’t use her Floo Powder,” Siria said as she pulled a pouch from her bag and handed it to Cassius. He accepted it then blasted the top of the fireplace, so he had room to stand. He and Patricia drew their wands along the sides of the fireplace, which crackled and hissed while the stone around it flashed black then returned to their usual grey.  
“Is that why she’s been wearing gloves?” Luna asked. “Did you plant Finger Nibbling Knacks?”  
“No,” Siria said, as she accepted the bag back. “The gloves are because of the… guess they’d be called ‘Chomping Lady Beetles’. I just put heat activated boil powder in her Floo Powder.”  
The Floo Powder flashed in the fire and turned the flames emerald green. Cassius gave one last speaking glance to the room before he called out to the flat on B Street and was swallowed by them. Siria took a handful and handed the bag over to Hermione. “See you in a minute,” Siria said. She threw the powder in the fire and called “the Ministry of Magic!”  
Siria didn’t know she would miss Colin and Dennis Creevey send Umbridge out of the castle and onto the grounds with a tidal wave. She wouldn’t see Fred and George, escape a battered Umbridge and Filch, by summoning their brooms from their dorm to the castle grounds. Siria would miss the sea of students cheer the twins on as they kicked off and told Peeves to “give Umbridge hell.” The portable swamp would remain in the entrance hall to do just that. Their Lava Floor burned and bubbled in a corridor on the third floor, where Pansy Parkinson and some of the Inquisitorial Squad were trapped by Fay and Mandy. Bianca Storm, Padma Patil, Lavender Brown, and Dean Thomas each trapped or else stunned members of the Squad, but Siria would miss that too. [B5, 674-676]  
It would be the stuff of Hogwarts legend, but even Siria Potter-Black couldn’t be there to see it all.


	39. Out of the Fire

**Out of the Fire**   


Still. Stiller than the dead and nearly as quiet. Only the Fountain of Magical Brethren’s spouts of water made a sound. The gentle pour roared in the otherwise empty Atrium.  
Emerald flames rumbled to life. Siria stumbled out of the fire. Then Hermione. By the time the lift arrived, so had the others. They hurried into the lift, which inched downward.  
“Where did Ginny go?” Ron asked. From Siria’s pocket, Ginny shouted, though she sounded distant from the mirror.  
“I’m on my way!” she said. Siria shuffled in her bag.  
“Ginny,” Hermione told Siria’s pocket, while Siria closed her bag to change the dial, “try some now. If you make it in good time, we’ll know it works and, if it doesn’t, I am so sorry.”  
“What are you having her try?” Ron asked as he pulled Hermione from Siria to shout “Don’t do it!” Siria sighed. She took the mirror from her pocket.  
“We’re in the Ministry— thank you all. I’ll check in when we get my dad,” Siria said. “Ginny, stay there!” and she closed the mirror.  
“Do you think he’s there?” Alice asked. “Or do you think Voldemort came alone?”  
“Voldemort might have come alone,” Patricia said, in her cool and level tone, “but I would plan for company.”  
“I didn’t see anyone else, but Voldemort is definitely a fan of having an audience,” Siria said, as she pulled out small, cloth sacks.“This is it,” she told them as the lift voice announced “Department of Mysteries.”  
“If you want to head back,” Siria said, “this is your final chance.” She expected the eye rolls. “Okay, everyone take one then,” she passed the cloth sacks around until everyone had one. “Throw the smokey green, if you can run away from it, throw the solid green if you need to run, orange paste for burns, and chartreuse for cuts.”  
“Merlin!” Maddy gasped and pointed to the corridor. Black scorch marks and deep grooves were splattered around the doorway. Siria’s heart sank as she shuffled toward the scene. She caressed the dark scuff mark on the cold stone floor. A plum singe hissed on the door.  
Nine wands were drawn as Siria pushed the door back. It creaked and revealed the circular room of identical doors. She filled her lungs. Siria led the way in, as she pulled out a spindle of red thread.  
“One of these leads into a gold room,” Siria said while she tied a piece of the string to her left pinky finger. “I…” Siria squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember the room. “I think… there’s a lot of ticking, so it’s clocks or metronomes or something.”  
“Should we split up?” Ron asked while Siria cut the thread.  
“No!” Hermione and Siria said, as Siria tied the end of her piece of string to Hermione’s hand.  
“We’ll show you why later, but we need to stay together as much as possible,” Hermione said. While Siria tied the string to Ron’s finger.  
“Which one do we try first?” Alice asked and reached for a door to imply “is this one fine?” Siria nodded, but the handle was firm. “It’s locked.”  
“Don’t bother then,” Siria said when Alice raised her wand. “We’re looking for an unlocked one,” and continued tying people’s fingers together as Luna tried the one in front of her.  
Gentle blue light glowed from a tank in the dark room. It smelt like formaldehyde. The smell only added to the strange, haunting but calming feeling that seemed to escape the room. Siria closed the door. [B5, 771-772]  
Ron opened the next. He squinted around the room. “Well, it’s pretty quiet,” Ron said. “Just an archway in like a theater,” and he closed the door.  
“I don’t understand,” Siria said as Hermione opened the next door. “It called to me when I was in Voldemort’s head.”  
“I’ve got it!” Hermione said. She threw the door all the way open and gasped. Siria knocked Hermione into the room in her rush to see.  
Shattered glass sprinkled the floor of the glittering gold room. Bags worth of sand poured onto the floor in scattered piles around the glass. Siria ran forward. “There are marks here,” Luna said and pointed.  
“Sirius is with the Prophecies!” Siria said, as she continued to run toward a door across the room. The red string on her finger stretched as Hermione trailed behind.  
“Don’t go shouting,” Hermione hissed. The string hung loosely between her and Siria, as it did with the other pairs.  
They ran into the Hall of Prophecies. Their footsteps echoed back down from the cathedral like high ceiling. Whether they whispered or shouted, it would make no difference. Whoever was there would know someone else was.  
Left and down. There. Siria’s throat filled with cement as she took in the polished, patent oxfords and their smooth onyx bottoms. She skidded to the figure’s side on her knees. She cradled the head of fine, black hair head in her lap. Siria put one of her hands beneath the neck, to feel for a pulse, as she loosened his tie and collar. She paused, there was a pulse, but… her heart sank further as she took in the vest. The fabric of the pinstripe vest was off grain. Its buttons didn’t match the jacket’s in size, color, or quaint fine detail that Sirius appreciated.  
“How do I tell them?” Siria asked herself. She looked to Hermione. “This is not Sirius,” she thought as hard as she could. Her eyes widened then Hermione’s did the same. Hermione raised the tip of her wand, just barely to Siria. Siria let her in.  
The faint blue light and darkness washed away into the afternoon sun at Moony & Padfoot. Chloe held a pair of solid black, handsewn, Italian shoes. She rolled her eyes again, as she turned the red bottoms in Sirius’s face. “They’re fashionable! Do you hear me? You need to set an example,” she told him.  
“I am,” Sirius said. “A good shoe needs a good tread. Children and teens are our target audience. Do you want them slipping and falling…”  
Hermione froze. She eyed the smooth bottoms, then the pants, shirt, and vest. Hermione took Ron’s hand and squeezed, as Siria turned back to the person with Sirius’s face. She cradled it between her hands.  
“Please, don’t let this be the last time I see you,” Siria pleaded mentally. “Don’t let that be the last thing I tell you.”  
“He’s okay,” Siria choked out. She squeezed her eyes shut.  
“Please, let the others know,” Siria thought. She pulled herself over the figure and faked a relieved sob. Siria squeezed one of her hands around the imposter. She raised three fingers in the direction of her friends and hoped they knew step three was still in effect.  
Siria rubbed her eyes on her sleeve then pulled one of the imposter’s arms over her shoulders. Ron reached to help, but Siria took a half step away. “I can take care of my father,” Siria said with as much emphasis on ‘father’ as she could. He nodded. The imposter pretended to stir from their feigned sleep.  
“It’s okay, father,” Siria said, as they muttered something. “The prophecy?” She repeated. The hand that wasn’t around her shoulders pointed, weakly, at the shelf of prophecies before them. They looked to the tag on one of the smoking, blue glass spheres:  
S.P.T. to A.P.W.R.D.  
Dark Lord  
And (?) Siria Potter (B5, 780). This was what Voldemort wanted. It was why he was going to kill Sirius. It was the reason Mr. Weasley was attacked.  
“Take it,” whispered the weak voice.  
“Wouldn’t it be better to destroy it?” Siria asked through the lump in her throat. She turned herself to be able to look over the figure’s shoulder. Everyone had their wand at the ready. One way or another, they knew this wasn’t Sirius.  
“No! We have to keep it safe.”   
“You know, father,” Siria said as she took a step toward the prophecy with them, “this is just like that scene with Westley and Vizzini’.” The cool silver eyes rolled, as though annoyed by the nonsense of children. “Which glass was the poison in?” Siria asked knowing full well both were poisoned.  
“I don’t remember.”  
Siria took a breath. She had only seen the move done in the movies, but some of that had to be real, right?  
Siria turned, so she was completely in front of the imposter, with their arm still over her shoulder. She pushed herself into their hips, bent over, and yanked their arm down. As she squatted, Siria rolled them off her hip. The moment they hit the ground, Siria pivoted and planted her foot on their shoulder, while she grappled their hand with one of hers. Siria pointed her wand at the imposters ankle and the POP echoed through the Hall.  
“You filthy little Halfblood!” They said as Sirius, “after I took you in— is this how you repay your father?” Siria laughed as she pressed harder with her foot. “You’re not my father,” Siria said. “Polyjuice Potion is great at letting you wear someone as a mask, but you’re just a kid at Halloween. The appearance, but none of the character.”  
Siria pointed her wand at the Prophecy while the others pointed at the imposter. “I’ll count to three,” Siria said, “and if you don’t tell me where Sirius is, I’ll FiendFyre the place down.”  
“I am your father,” the imposter insisted as they whacked Siria with their free arm.   
“One,” Siria said through clenched teeth as she gave a single, disappointed shake of her head.  
“Put that wand down,” they rummaged for a wand. Siria pointed her wand at their other shoulder and the POP caused them to scream.  
“Two,” Siria said. She did not need Hermione’s hand on her shoulder to tell her she was using magic. She heard the trembling of the glass spheres like a summer’s rain.  
“Now, Potter-Black, there will be no need for that,” a cool, drawling voice said as it formed from darkness. Black shaped emerged out of thin air around them. The imposter she pinned turned to black cloud that reappeared behind the figure that spoke. Small flashes of eyes gleamed in the dark beneath slits of the hoods. Each of their wands was raised, except one. [B5, 780-781]  
“Mr. Malfoy,” Siria greeted a tall, slender, masked figure. Mr. Malfoy dropped the pretenses and removed his hood. “Am I correct to assume the prophecy can only be removed by me or Voldemort?” Siria directed her wand at the prophecy. She released sparks and heard them held their breath. [B5, 786]  
“Yes, quite clever, aren’t you?” Mr. Malfoy told Siria in a drawl not unlike his son’s. “Why don’t we arrange a trade? Your.. ‘Father’ for the Prophecy?”  
“That’s a good place to start,” Siria told him. “Bring him or I burn it,” Siria said as she let just the smallest wisp of smoke spiral from her wand tip. “Once I confirm who you bring is the real Sirius Black, I’ll hand over the Prophecy.”  
“How can we be sure you’ll hold up your end?” Malfoy asked.  
“Because I wouldn’t put it past Voldemort to kill you to set an example of what failing him looks like,” is what Siria wanted to say. There was no way to say what she wanted. No way to say she believed Draco Malfoy could still change that maybe even the Death Eaters could see why they were wrong.  
“That’s your gamble, isn’t it?” Siria said instead. “Could you lot ‘strong arm’ me into handing it over if I don’t? Is it worth the gamble? Voldemort couldn’t very well come to the Ministry when they’ve turned a blind eye to his return.” The words hurt. Why hadn’t someone questioned her? She didn’t even question herself. Siria thought Voldemort had Sirius at the Ministry because that’s where Sirius was. It was like trying solve a math problem with only half the question, but they believed her. “It’s on you to get them out,” Siria told herself.  
“Take the small one,” the one with Sirius’s face told Malfoy, “and torture her until the brat hands it over.” The group closed around Luna, who was smallest with Ginny gone. Siria let more sparks fly. [B5, 783]  
“How upset would your master be to learn the Prophecy melted and no one caught a word?” Siria asked. Pink spotted Mr. Malfoy’s nose, a family tell. “I’ll be gracious, even,” Siria said, “and let you talk amongst yourselves,” and she bowed. Her eyes remained on them as she took a step back, into Ron.  
“He’s here,” Alice whispered. “He’s terrified of spiders and allergic to dogs.”  
“If only they all were,” Maddy whispered back. “Is the plan the same?” Siria pretended to tighten her ponytail. She held two fingers then three.  
“Follow the string to regroup,” Siria said, though she could only see Hermione’s. The others’ eyes wandered to something that Siria couldn’t see, but knew was there.   
“Okay,” Patricia said. “We don’t know they they don’t have more Polyjuice on them, so remember your questions.” Maddy squeezed Alice’s hand, as Alice continued to glare at the hooded figure that was her father.  
“For Sirius, There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly,” Siria whispered “or anything you can remember from The Princess Bride.”  
“Alright, Ms. Potter-Black,” Mr. Malfoy said. “We shall have someone collect your ‘father’,” he walked toward the prophecy, “Once he is in sight, you shall confirm it is him, and then hand over the Prophecy.”  
“Normally, I would say let’s make an Unbreakable Vow,” Siria saw and knew some of the others did too, the rock of Mr. Malfoy’s foot. It wasn’t enough to cause him to walk back, but enough to show his hesitation. Though Mr. Malfoy didn’t know it, Siria spent enough time with Draco to see just how much he was his father’s son. “But I’ve already made one,” she lied.  
“Shame,” Mr. Malfoy said. “We’ll just have to take the other’s word on it.”  
“I suppose I could send a few people to go with yours,” Siria said. “Unless you’re worried some Death Eaters could be overpowered by a few teenagers?”  
“Ms. Potter-Black, I would not put it past your friends to try,” Mr. Malfoy said.  
This, Siria hoped, would be her only gamble. Somehow, the shaking stopped, though her heart ached worse than ever. She listened to the slow, simple duple of the three Death Eaters’ footsteps grow ever quieter until its end. Her scar pulsed and blurred her vision for a moment. Siria took a breath.  
The string on her finger tugged. Hermione had pulled on it, to remind Siria she was not alone. “That’s the problem,” Siria thought. “If I were alone, what would it matter if I melted the Hall with them and me inside?”  
Absently as she could make it seem, Siria tucked her hand into her jacket pocket. “Would you do something about their face?” Siria asked. She expected the Death Eaters to fill the time with a monologue, as Voldemort had, of their great plan. Siria could believe they overpowered Sirius with so many and took his hair for some Polyjuice Potion. She was curious about why they left Sirius alive, unless it was to torture him for information later, and how they knew he would be here tonight.  
Mr. Malfoy took a wine bottle out of his cloak and poured it over the imposter. The lustrous dark hair, cool silver eyes, and handsome face of Sirius Black melted away. Though the hair remained dark, it was dry and frayed. Dark circles hung around the hollowed out, double-lidded eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange. While the fine tailored suit no longer fit her well, it still suited her.  
Siria supposed they thought Bellatrix once knew her cousin better than the other Death Eaters; she certainly did not now. Sirius was a fan of small details. “He’s such a dork,” Siria thought at the buttons and how peculiar Sirius was with such little things.  
For as much as he may dress up more the other Order members, he would not wear a polished, patent oxford here. All these little things Siria picked up with Sirius over the summer, priceless. Hermione’s help with Occlumency, indispensable. Ron’s help with strategy games and encouragement, immeasurable. Five years at Hogwarts, would it be enough? The extra years Lily Potter bought her… yet to be determined.  
Footsteps began again. It was time to continue step three. Ron would need to lead the others. Why hadn’t she told him he could? She should have encouraged him in some way. Said anything to convey her confidence in him.  
As Siria approached the Prophecy, the Death Eaters closed around her. Alice watched her father. Hermione and Ron watched Mr. Malfoy. Neville kept his eyes on Bellatrix LeStrange. Luna, Maddy, and Patricia watched the other Death Eaters that circled Siria. She was isolated as three Death Eaters returned with Sirius.  
Siria could have ran it through her head ten times and still not be prepared. Sirius wore shackles around his ankles and wrists. His clothes were tattered. He had a black eye. Sirius spat some blood on the hood of the bulky Death Eater that held him by his hair.  
“Your voice can’t shake and your question has to be something only he would know,” Siria told herself. She squeezed her eyes shut then looked to Malfoy. “Unsilence him.” Malfoy nodded to the three that held Sirius.  
“RUN!” Sirius shouted. Siria took a breath. Something Sirius could answer that they couldn’t. Her mind went blank.  
“Beating a dead horse 1d6 at a time,” Siria blurted. Sirius gaped at her. It wasn’t from The Princess Bride or any of the movies they watched. She just happened to listen to the podcast in the office. Chloe acted annoyed, but laughed as she listened too.  
“System Mastery,” Sirius whispered, almost resigned.  
It was now. Her fingers grazed the warm sphere and she forced them to close. “Accio!” Bellatrix called without a moment’s hesitation. Siria stuffed the Prophecy in her jacket and zipped it with one hand while she used her other to point her wand at the ground, and summoned forth a jet of water that turned into a fountain then near river. Red fired all around her. Explosions blew up shelves and the Prophecies came crashing down. She ripped a blue bottle from her belt and threw it at the ground near Mr. Malfoy. It exploded in a massive wave, as Siria was washed by water with some of the Death Eaters, still firing silent stunners or disarming charms.  
With her wand, Siria summoned up a smoke screen. She threw another Bottled Tidal Wave at a nearby shelf. Siria took a breath and dove under the water. There, she pulled off what looked like a green paintball. She smashed it in her fist then threw it toward the closest Death Eater. It rode the currant of the wave, as it grew, then tangled them. She swam toward Sirius, and linked her arms under his to pull him to the surface. They gasped for air.  
As Siria melted Sirius’s shackles, the water hissed. The wave reached its end as Siria stumbled to her feet with the freed Sirius. They bolted to the door with more jets of red and cries of “Accio!” after her. Neville crashed into the door before them.  
“Locked!” he shouted at Siria. She grabbed his hand as they run toward the next door.  
“They’ll be fine,” Siria told herself. She let go of Neville’s hand to point her wand.  
“Bombarda Maxima!” The shelves near the locked door exploded into a rain of blue smoke and hisses of the could-be.  
Neville opened the door. Siria pushed Sirius through then slammed it behind her. Siria wrote “[Close]” at the bottom of the door and drew a line across.  
BAM!  
Someone ran into the door. Siria let out a slow breath, as she rested her scar against the cool door for a moment. She rummaged through her bag, in the darkness, for Madam Pomfrey’s solution, which she dabbed on her scar with one hand and ran her wand along Sirius’s cuts with her other.   
Sirius knocked her wand from his face to hug her. “You—” Sirius said as he held her. “What were you thinking?” he asked as he loosened his grip to stare her in the eye. “You could be killed.”  
“Let’s just focus on getting everyone out,” Siria said.  
“Um…” Neville uttered. Siria stepped back and turned. Her jaw fell. Massive, larger than her, some larger than Hagrid, spheres and lights floated in the darkness before Siria. Some were covered in ice, some with a yellow hue, one even seemed to spark.  
“Hyperion?” Siria whispered at the sphere closest to her. It had to be Hyperion, with Titan and the others circling what was undoubtedly Saturn. She pointed to Saturn, as though sense would fall into place. Siria ran her hand over her head while she wondered if she hit it. “It’s a Charm,” Siria told herself, “or just very complicated magic…complicated magic.” She shook her head and looked to the string around her finger.  
“The others are this way,” Siria said and pointed. Neville looked to his finger, and the other way. “Okay, well… Hermione is this way,” Siria said. Who did she tie to Neville? “She’ll be fine,” Siria said. “It’s Hermione, after all.”  
Neville led them to a door, which he cracked open, as another door in the room opened. “They’re here!” an unfamiliar voice shrieked beneath a hood. Siria pushed Neville and Sirius into the next room.  
“Pefynd Beignis!” She shouted and let a stampede of twisted, fiery stags charged after the Death Eater that shouted. She threw the door open and slammed it shut behind her. Siria wrote “[Close]” and drew a line across the door.

She turned around to face her friends and address their whispers— but only Neville and Sirius were there. “As you wish?” Siria asked the voices in the room. Westley said it enough in The Princess Bride that even Alice, who paid the least attention, should be able to recognize it, Siria thought as she stepped down.  
Larger than the Great Hall and dimly lit in grey, the room formed a pit of descending stone bench-like levels around its center. There were doors around the room, at the level she stood, but Siria stepped down, onto the next layer of stone. Everything was so perfectly rectangular except the center and its archway. An odd, old archway with a tattered black curtain that fluttered in the otherwise still room. Someone or many people whispered through the curtain or where it somehow lead to. [B5, 773]  
“We need to get out of here,” Sirius said. Siria turned, close enough to the arch to touch it. She looked over her shoulder, to the door she entered through and realized she didn’t remember walking this close.  
“Are you okay?” Siria asked, as she climbed back up a few of the steps, toward Sirius.  
“I was just petrified, but they took my wand,” Sirius said. “We need to contact the Order.”  
“The Order has been contacted,” Siria said as she reached the step beneath him.  
Neville opened the door his string probably lead to. Someone called his name and he pulled the door open further. Alice and Luna ran into the room. Neville slammed the door behind them. Alice pointed her wand at the door then gasped for breath. She leaned on Luna as she scanned through the room. Alice held Luna’s arm.  
“Who has a Map?” Alice asked, her eyes on Siria. Siria nodded.  
“Seamus and Parvati have mine, Bones has Cedric’s—” Siria stopped at Alice’s raised hand, as she let go of Luna.  
“My ankle didn’t get fixed right,” Alice said and raised her swollen left ankle. Siria turned the dial on her bag, opened it, and tossed Alice a cold compress. Alice peeled off the back and stuck on the pad on her ankle. The ankle shrunk down to the size of the other.  
“Hermione’s this way,” Siria said and pointed toward one of the other doors. Neville pulled one of Sirius’s arms over his shoulders. He nodded to Siria. “Bellatrix has his wand.”  
“I know,” Neville said. He led Sirius toward the door, with Luna and Alice ahead of them.  
Siria turned back to the dias. The whispers. Something about them and how the curtain danced without any wind turned her stomach. She shook her head. Siria had to get Sirius and the others out. As she turned away again, Siria caught the faintest of inkling to what the voices behind the veil said, but she could ask them later.  
Alice cracked the door open and asked “What’s the main girl’s name?” Siria hopped the first level of stone, as someone answered. “We’ve got them!” Alice called over her shoulder.  
“Everyone looks okay,” Luna told Siria, who rose to the next level. Sirius and Neville had just stepped into the room with the others when four doors blew open.  
“Leave me behind!” Siria screamed at them. She pointed her wand at the door Hermione held open, which slammed shut. She pulled her wand-free hand down, then turned as if locking a deadbolt and thought “[Lock]!”  
“Hand it over,” Mr. Malfoy told Siria, as he approached. They surrounded her, as the Aurors had surrounded Professor McGonagall. If McGonagall couldn’t take four Aurors, Siria knew she couldn’t take the ten or so Death Eaters.  
“You should go home, Mr. Malfoy,” Siria said. “I’m sure your son would like you home for summer.”  
“Oh, I will be,” Mr. Malfoy said. Bellatrix tried to summon the prophecy again. It tugged at the jacket pocket, but remained zipped in.  
Siria was hit with the overwhelming feeling of elation, enough to vomit in such a stressful time. She threw the Imperius Curse off before an order could be given. Terror devoured her. Before the Curse, she barely felt it, but the stark contrast of elation and horror rubbed her fears in her face.  
Why had she even taken it? Why had she not just handed it over? Siria wonderded, though she suspected she knew. In Voldemort’s mind, she knew how much he wanted it. “More than the girl” was the feeling. More than he wanted her dead, he wanted to know what the prophecy said. Siria gritted her heel into the stone. If Voldemort’s cry of “She’s mine” still stood, they couldn’t kill her, that was his victory to be had, as he thought it was meant to be when she a child, then again last year.  
“I must say,” Siria stalled, “Voldemort cares for education— waited until after finals or got me out of them half my years of school, and I’ve got my History O.W.L...” Mr. Malfoy extended his hand. His cool silver eyes were upon her.  
“The time for your games is over,” Mr. Malfoy said.  
“It was never a game for me,” Siria said, as she moved toward her pocket. The plan did well enough, especially with how much Siria simplified it.  
1) Distract.  
2) Divide.  
3) Be Prepared to Improvise.  
The Weasley twins lead a flawless distraction. Only Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass seemed to notice something off. Everyone’s willingness to be a roadblock, so Siria could continue, let their division go so smoothly. She was proud of their improvisation up to this point. There were potions on her belt, plants still in her bag, but she felt out of material.  
Siria unzipped her pocket. Inside, she fought the prophecy’s pull on its way to someone. It tugged her hand around, with the different attempts to summon it. Siria tightened her grip. Could she break it in her grasp?  
“This is your last chance to go home,” Siria said. It was half a bluff, as flame started to seep from the tip of her wand.  
“Stupefy!” Bellatrix shouted. Siria let go of the prophecy, zipped her pocket then motioned with her free hand and focused, more than she may have ever before on her magic. The jet of red seemed to reflect off the air before Siria’s hand as the twisted stag formed and scrapped its fire hoof along the stone, which hissed as it burned.  
“I’m taking you out with me,” Siria shouted. More fire roared from her wand as fiends burned to life.  
A strange feeling hit Siria. It wasn’t elation, from an Imperius Curse. The feeling was subtle, but it was even more than a feeling, she knew. Somehow, she knew wasn’t alone. Siria clenched her fist, the small silver ring accented with the little crystals of green, silver, red, and gold felt warm and in sync with her burning spirit.  
Four more doors burst open and no less than two people rushed in from each. Remus and Tonks leapt down toward Bellatrix Lestrange. Moody and Kingsley went right for the Death Eaters before them. Amos Diggory and Marcus Flint took up with the Death Eaters before them as Cassius Warrington charged for Siria. Two women Siria only knew in passing from the Order, Emmeline Vance and Hestia Jones, rushed into the room with Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. [B5, 801]


	40. The Order of the Phoenix

**The Order of the Phoenix**   


With a flick of Siria’s wand, the FiendFyre stag charged toward the Death Eaters in Cassius’s path with a small pack of monstrous wolves. Mr. Malfoy lunged for Siria, but months of running still in her, she dashed beyond him, as Emmeline Vance, fired a jet of red at him. He hopped up a level of the steps to avoid it and a stray fiend wolf. “Get to the Atrium!” Hestia Jones shouted at Siria, as she leapt to the side to dodge a jet of green.  
“Stun her!” A hooded Death Eater shouted, as he turned his back to Bill Weasley, and fired a jet of red at Siria. She threw herself to the ground to dodge and commanded her fiend stag to charge him. He leapt from its path. Cassius pulled Siria up as the Death Eater ripped his buring cloak off. They knew his face from his Prophet photo— Antonin Dolohov.  
Cassius yanked Siria’s arm toward one of the open doors. “My job is to get you out,” Cassius told her, and deflected a red jet while they inched onward. Siria pointed her wand at the room’s ceiling and drops of darkness rained from the sky. They melted the FiendFyre monsters to puddles.   
“We’re outnumbered,” Siria told him. If Cassius and Siria stayed, the Order could have the upper hand. She circled her wand and the raining darkness dispersed.  
Dolohov blocked Bill while he stepped closer to Cassius and Siria. Moody dueled Mr. Malfoy and a hooded Death Eater while Kingsley, Amos Diggory, Flint, Hestia Jones, and Fleur Delacour each dueled one of the other still hooded Death Eaters. Emmeline Vance dueled two Death Eaters with the finesse that Bellatrix Lestrange, despite her broken ankle, used on Remus and Tonks at the dias.  
Flint fell to the ground, rigid. Cassius stepped toward him, but stilled himself. “This isn’t the time for if we can help,” Cassius said and pulled Siria up another step. He was so much larger than her that he managed to drag her up another step with ease. Fleur overpowered her Death Eater. His hood fell back, as he did, and showed the stunned face of Rabastan Lestrange. She turned to the Death Eater that stunned Flint and knocked away a buzzing yellow wave.  
Siria groaned, but climbed the tall, stone stadium seats with Cassius. With frequent glances over their shoulders, they caught bits of the battle. Kingsley unhooded then overpowered Rodolphus Lestrange. Amos Diggory disarmed a Death Eater, but was stunned by another. Moody did something that left Augustus Rookwood bound in tangled vines. He and Emmeline Vance finally stunned one of her opponents.  
Hermione rushed into the room with Alice, Cedric, Ginny, Luna, Maddy, Neville, Patricia, Ron, and a wandless Sirius behind her. Patricia pointed her wand at the dias, which grew slick. Bellatrix slipped, but so did Tonks. Remus kept his ground, but Malfoy saw him from a few levels up, and tried to stun him. Sirius rushed Malfoy.  
Ron joined Bill against Dolohov. Patricia and Maddy stepped in to help Hestia Jones. Alice rushed to fight a still hooded Death Eater, who had to be her father because she enlarged a rock into a boulder then turned it into a dog. Hermione hurried toward Siria while Ginny and Luna covered her from beside the door and Cedric and Neville ran after her.  
“We aren’t outnumbered anymore,” Cassius said like that solved it. Ron and Bill Weasley petrified Dolohov and joined Fleur and Maddy, who split up from Patricia when they stunned Hestia Jones’s Death Eater. Emmeline Vance and Hestia Jones stunned another Death Eater with Patricia, two of the red beams hit at once.  
Their wands were too quick for Siria to follow, as she neared a door with Cassius. Her hair crackled with electricity as a bolt of violet light zipped by her head. She whipped around to see Tonks clatter to the floor like a statue, and Bellatrix Lestrange fire a jet of green light at Remus. To dodge it, Remus leapt— right into a flash of purple flame. Remus collapsed with Siria’s heart as she dove back down the steps to him.  
Unburned and strangely cold, Remus slept. Siria held his pulse and glared to Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix cackled, then froze with her eyes on a doorway. Siria followed her line of sight. Directly above them, at the door Siria sealed, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft and his face furious (B5, 805). Bellatrix fled, Mr. Malfoy right ahead of her, and Siria on their heels— the others would be fine with Dumbledore there.  
The room Siria chased Bellatrix Lestrange and Mr. Malfoy into was dark, except for the tank of glowing blue light. Bellatrix hit the tank with a spell, which tipped it. She laughed. Siria stomped the air beneath her “[Solidify]!” She thought with each step she took in the air, above the water and— were those brains with tentacles?— beneath her. Malfoy fired a Stunning Spell, which missed Siria completely. [B5, 811]  
Siria broke through the broken exit door in time to see the bottom of a lift rize out of sight. She slammed the button to summon another one. “That—” and Siria swore as she stepped into the lift, “—. If Remus doesn’t recover…” she wrung her wand. Someone called her name from below, but she was already moving on. She checked the zipper of her pocket, with the Prophecy. Siria clicked her tongue. She should have left it with Cassius or Hermione. “Hermione had headed for her… why did they stay?” Siria looked the string on her finger, which lead downward. “Everyone’s still there,” Siria thought as she pulled a potion from her bag and hung it on her belt, “Dumbledore is there.”  
The lift dinged open. From across the Atrium, with an arm around Malfoy’s neck to keep her up, Bellatrix fired curses over her shoulder. Siria rolled out of the way. She gestured to Fountain of Magical Brethren. The witch’s statue flew from the fountain and into the telephone booth. Bellatrix and Malfoy skidded to a halt so quickly that Bellatrix fell forward. They glared at Siria.  
“Hand over the Prophecy and we’ll spare you, today,” Mr. Malfoy told Siria. He extended his free hand, as though she would finally give it up.  
“What can I say to such a convincing argument,” Siria said and rolled her eyes. “Get lost, Malfoy— I’m here for her,” Siria pointed her wand at Bellatrix, who laughed beside her brother-in-law.  
“Does baby Potter wuv the werewolf?” Bellatrix teased in a mock-baby voice. Siria took her stance.  
“Enough to kill,” Siria said. She sliced the air with her wand. Bellatrix deflected it. Malfoy directed it away from himself and pulled Bellatrix to her feet.  
Even on a broken and now swollen ankle, Bellatrix pushed Siria back. Siria knocked each jet of red, from Malfoy and Bellatrix, away with her hand. She fired the occasional Dislocation Jinx at Bellatrix, who deflected them away. Green flashed toward Siria, who dropped to the floor.  
“He wants her alive!” Malfoy shouted and slapped Bellatrix’s wand arm from Siria’s direction.  
“The Dark Lord will thank me for me service— the Prophecy delivered and the Potter girl dead,” said Bellatrix. Siria ripped the smoking green potion bottle from her belt and threw it at them. It burst at their feet. Malfoy motioned to step away, but collapsed. Bellatrix clapped a hand over her mouth and nose and she dragged herself away on her good leg. Siria smirked at the smoke of the Fatiguing Fusion.  
Siria flicked her wrist and her Dislocation Jinx hit Bellatrix Lestrange’s hip. Bellatrix crumpled to the ground. “Expelliarmus!” Siria called. The wand flew from Bellatrix’s hand. “Accio!” Siria thought and it zoomed to her free hand. She partnered the wands together and directed their attention to Bellatrix. Bellatrix screamed as her shoulder popped from its socket.  
“I’ve read you like to torture your victims,” Siria said as she crouched near Bellatrix, who laughed.  
“You’re just a child,” Bellatrix said. “You don’t have what it takes.” Siria inhaled as she rose to her full height and pointed her wand at Bellatrix’s knee. The pop echoed through the Atrium, with Bellatrix’s gasp.  
“Now, I know you like to use the Cruciatus Curse, but,” and Siria stepped on Bellatrix’s knee. Her screams were as twisted as Siria felt. “Where is Voldemort?” Siria asked through gritted teeth. The more her scar hurt, the more she wanted to make someone else hurt more, but she eased up to let Bellatrix breathe. “Where is he, Bella?” She asked, as she stepped back on Bellatrix’s knee and leaned on it. “I can make the pain stop,” Siria said. “So ,why don’t you tell me where your master is?” Bellatrix spat on Siria. Siria wiped it from her cheek and scowled.  
“You know, Bella, I go to school with your nephew,” Siria said. She winced, unsure if it was from the pain or how low she sunk. Bellatrix almost shuddered. “It’d be a shame if something happened to him,” Siria eased back off the broken knee. “Where is Voldemort?”  
“Siria Potter-Black—” a cold, high voice greeted. Siria spun on the spot.  
Though pain blurred her vision, she saw him. He was still taller than her. His skeletal body was masked by his black cloak. The same, hungry red eyes stared at Siria from a gaunt face in the middle of the Atrium. [B5, 812]  
“Master!” Bellatrix cried. “He is here— here is below.” [B5, 812]  
“Silence, Bella,” Voldemort said, with his eyes on Siria. “Hand me the Prophecy, Potter-Black, or I shall take it from your corpse.”  
“The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death” Siria stated in such a clear voice she surprised herself. Her knees wanted to shake; she could feel them tingle, as if cold, but kept them firm.  
“You have irked me too often, for too long,” Voldemort told Siria. She smiled, as she slid her wand into her jacket and Voldemort raised his.  
“Please,” Siria thought, “please let this be the ‘right’ thing.”  
“AVADA KEDAVRA!”  
Siria closed her eyes and let her final breath out. “NO!” She heard someone scream, too late. Her body fell to floor.


	41. Death, Life, and the Between

**Death, Life, and the Between**   


She was flat on her back. She was neither warm nor cool and smelt nothing. Her fingertips rested on something flat, as did the meat of her palm, parts of her back, legs, and arms did the same. She was bare, but, no sooner had she thought of clothes, they were on her.  
As she thought, she had to be, or so she figured. She remembered languages: English, Korean, the little Latin she started learning, and the Japanese for the red thread spell. Though not much, she heard. There were quiet, stifled cries that sounded far.  
Her mouth tasted as it often did to her after a long sleep. She seemed to have all her senses, still. All that was left to check was sight. Siria opened her eyes into a glittering, almost snowy, mist. It loaded in pieces, almost how some a video games did. The ground was white and soft. There were vaguely tree-shaped things, as if someone who had only heard of them secondhand tried to make them from snow.  
What interested her most, were the swings. Siria rose off the ground. She dusted the knees of her jeans, though they were clean, and approached the old swings. These were the swings from the park near Privet Drive. Sirius, disguised as Snuffles, used to watch her swing here. As she sat down, it creaked, as it always did. So did the one beside her.  
From thin air, a man appeared. He had untidy dark hair and Siria blurted out “James?” The man smiled as he turned to face her. It was not James Potter. He was older than any photo of James. James had also only dressed nicely in the wedding photos. This man had fine, dark crimson dress slacks, a black button up, and a Gryffindor tie.  
The man parted his hair with his fingers to reveal a scar similar to Siria’s. His was a simple lightning bolt and started just a little higher; it didn’t even touch his eyebrow, whereas Sira’s left a piece of eyebrow missing and went down to her eyelid. In his almond shaped green eyes were the same flecks of almost-yellow and the rings of his irises were deep green, like hers.  
“Hello,” he greeted her like an old friend. “I’m Harry James Potter. What’s your name?”  
“Siria…” she muttered in reply as she squinted at his eyes. He chuckled.  
“It’s nice to meet you Siria,” Harry said. “I don’t suppose Voldemort just killed you?”  
“He did...” Siria said. She leaned back on the swing, away from him. “Did I mess it up?”  
“Not at all,” Harry told her. The laugh lines of his smile were like Sirius’s. “You did a great job.”  
“So,” Siria planted her feet on the ground as she held the chains and leaned on the seat, “I’m dead.”  
“It’s complicated,” Harry said. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”  
“Do you decide what happens next?” Siria asked. “Like, if I get to go back or stay here, or go somewhere else?”  
“Not at all.”  
Siria raised her feet and swung low on the swing. Something still cried. The only thing that looked “alive” beside her and Harry, was a small crumbled skeletal cat looking thing beneath the slide. She dug her feet into the ground and pointed, with her hand still on the chain, at it.  
“Shouldn’t we do something about that?” Siria asked, her nose scrunched.  
“There isn’t anything that can be done,” Harry said. His brow furrowed a bit at it. “I don’t know how much you know, but that’s the piece of Voldemort.” Siria nodded.  
“This might sound silly, but I was really scared,” Siria confessed. “I’m a Gryffindor, so you’d think I’d be fine dying at fourteen for the greater good, but it took me a whole year to get here.” She rocked on the swing, “It’s not that bad.”  
“You’re only fifteen?” Harry asked. Siria nodded. “Was Lily Evans your mother?” Siria nodded again. “Didn’t she die to save you? Or do you not live with the Dursleys’s anymore?”  
“Oh,” Siria planted her feet to stop the slow sway of the swing. “The Protection Charm…” Siria hummed. “Maybe because I wanted it? That’s more a question for Hermione, Dumbledore, or Sirius—” Siria’s throat closed.  
The “No!” she heard someone scream echoed through her mind. Sirius saw. Sirius watched Siria accept death, but that wasn’t how he would see it. Hermione and Ron might have seen to. They would have followed Sirius to her. Who would tell the Creevey brothers? Or worse, Hagrid and Remus?  
“Harry, could you tell me how to get out of here?” Siria asked and rose to her feet. “I have to go back.”  
“Siria, there’s no need to rush,” Harry said. “I’m just here to explain some things to you, but it helps me to know how much you already do.” Siria groaned and crouched down. She squeezed her eyes closed.  
“Why don’t we start with Horcruxes?” Harry suggested. Siria rose up. She looked him square in the eye.  
“I’m not really a Horcrux,” Siria said. “They’re objects with the intent for evil, like Tom Riddle’s diary. There might be a piece of Voldemort with me, but I’m not evil… though, I did just kind of… do something bad.” Siria sighed. She curled back down and pressed her head to her knees.  
“Mr. Potter,” Siria said, “I don’t need explanations or many questions answered.” She looked up at him. “Can I go back?”  
“Yes,” Harry said. The furrow in his brow back. “But time passes a little differently here. You have time to get answers.” Siria rolled her eyes, but she sat back down and started to tell Harry Potter the story of her life.  
Occasionally Siria would pause to see if Harry needed more detail or wanted her to skip ahead. When she finished, he told her how he handled things. Siria tilted her head to the side and sighed at him when he finished explaining that he took the Thestrals to the Ministry.  
“Harry, are you like ‘parallel universe’ or ‘alternate timeline’ me or am I A.U. you?” Siria asked. She wondered if, since he was older, if he was the “original” or if it was like in comic books and sometimes the older one was the revamp.  
“That I don’t know,” Harry said. “I have met other Harry Potters, a Harry Evans-Potter, a Harry Evans, a few Harriets, but I met Dumbledore when I died.”  
“Well, my—” Siria stressed the word as though it was due to her “—Dumbledore is still alive, so I wouldn’t very well meet him here.”  
“If you decide to return, you could ask him,” Harry said. Siria gave a soft “hm” then shook her head.  
“He might think I’ve been concussed,” Siria said. “I don’t even know if I’ll tell Hermione. Ron’ll believe me no problem… how are your Ron and Hermione?” She held out her hand to stop him. “No!” Siria clapped her hands over her ears. “I change my mind— I don’t want to hear. I couldn’t handle if they died or were miserable. Don’t tell me!” Harry laughed.  
“It sounds like you’ve lived a good life so far,” Harry said. “You got to spend a lot more time with Sirius than I did. I’m a little jealous.”  
“I bet I spent the most time with him,” Siria said with a wide smile, as she kicked off to swing.  
“You’d be surprised,” Harry told her. “A few of us have been adopted— right after James and Lily died.”  
“What?” Siria skipped to a stop. “That’s not fair! What about the Protection Charm?” Harry shrugged. “Oh, Sirius is never going to hear the end of this,” she shook her head and let herself swing again.  
“You’re sure I’ll come back okay?” Siria asked. “Lily and James aren’t expecting me, are they?” She shook her head. “You know what, don’t tell me. They’ll be there when I die-die, and Sirius is waiting for me, so are Hermione, Ron, and the others. Plus, I’ve got an O.W.L. tomorrow too.”  
“You’re worried about O.W.L.s?” Harry chuckled. “Hermione’s been a stronger influence on you than she was to me.”  
“Well, my Hermione’s pretty amazing,” Siria said and stuck her tongue out as she swung by. “She’s learning Korean with me; started the Hogwarts Herald, the school newspaper; made informational flyers about Voldemort, the Death Eaters, and how to protect each other; she got the Hogwarts House elves set free at fourteen; has gotten really good at Legilimency— right” Siria said at the impressed look on his face.  
“Sirius gets us all the books we want for it— he tells me about all the things he used to do with money and that he considers an investment in our education to be a better cause,” Siria said and allowed herself a laugh. “Besides, he’s been bringing me books since I could read.”  
Harry Potter used his hand to cover his smile, as Siria did when she knew she shouldn't be. She glared at him as she swung above the bar. “You’re just, one of the more nerdy ones,” Harry told her. Siria rolled her eyes.  
“If you’re not using your resources, why do you even have them?” Siria asked. “Hey,” Siria leapt off the swing, to stop, and hurried back to Harry. “Does the Magical Community go public in your world?” Siria asked with a hand on his chain.  
“No,” Harry said. “I think there’s only been one, a Harriet, but we never went into hiding in her world.”  
“Why?” Siria shouted. She covered her mouth and stepped back. “I mean, why are there so few? We could make people’s lives better. We could help them, like Dumbledore considered, but he was only seventeen and his actual ideas were terrible…” Siria sighed and sat on the ground. “I’m fifteen and dead,” she put her head in her hands. “What am I talking about?” Siria sighed again. “It isn’t your fault.”  
She rolled her head back. “I suppose this is my last question. I don’t expect you to know, but I would rather ask and you not have an answer than not ask and you know,” Siria prefaced it. Her eyes mirrored his as she stared intently at him. “Have you ever heard of ‘힘의 변화’? It translates to ‘change of power’, and it might just be fairy tale nonsense,” Siria said. “It’s just, Baek is looking into it because she says there might be more to it, since she thinks ‘A Tale of Two Brothers’ is based on a real story…” she trailed off and let of the swing’s chain as she stepped back.  
“Never underestimate a fairy tale,” Harry told her. “It’s because of a ‘fairy tale’ that I beat Voldemort.”  
“How?” Siria asked.  
“Through a lot a luck and a little coincidence,” Harry said.  
Harry got to his feet. “Siria,” Harry said, “There are just a few things before you go back, if you really want to.” Siria beamed and rocked forward onto her toes as she nodded. “There are a few Horcruxes left,” Harry told her. “Dumbledore will get the ring, it sounds like he always does. You’ve got to get Hufflepuff’s Cup, Ravenclaw’s Diadem, and Nagini.”  
“Cup, Diadem, snake,” Siria repeated as she bounced on her heels. “Got it.”  
“Now, next year, Malfoy…” Harry stared at Siria like he didn’t know how to tell her. “You can’t save Dumbledore,” Harry said, “no one will believe you about Malfoy, but you’re right.”  
“I am?” Siria asked. “Is every us right about him?”  
“So far,” Harry said. Siria smiled.  
“So, he changed after all,” Siria thought to herself.  
“Okay!” Siria said. Any moment now, Harry would tell her how to get home.  
“Now,” Harry said, “I tell everyone a few things my Dumbledore told me.” Siria took a breath and held it in, rather than sigh. “This is real and happening inside your head,” Harry said. “Be forgiving, don’t pity the dead, pity the living and those who live without love,” Harry told her. [B7, 722-723] Siria looked a the piece of Voldemort.  
“Can we really not do anything?” Siria asked. “I mean… if I should ‘be forgiving’... no” Siria shook her head. “He deserves worse than death.”  
“Do you really believe that?” Harry asked. Siria clenched and released her hands.  
“I have to,” Siria said. “So, Cup, Diadem, snake, and Dumbledore will get the ring” Siria listed on her fingers, “I’m right about Malfoy, and might be onto something with [change of power].” She smiled, but it fell as she looked back to the piece of Voldemort. If she was really onto something...  
“Actually,” Siria said. She approached the curled up, skeletal figure that sobbed beneath the slide. Siria swept the figure into her arms. It felt almost like Dobby, but was somehow smaller. She looked back at Harry Potter. “Don’t look at me like that,” Siria said as she rose back up, the piece of Voldemort cradled in her arms like a baby.  
“You’ll have died for nothing if you bring it back,” Harry said. Siria pulled on a smile.  
“I don’t believe that’ll be the case,” Siria shrugged a little.  
“You said he deserved worse than death,” Harry reminded her. He tucked his hands into his pockets.  
“What I have in mind is,” Siria said. She learned something about herself that she couldn’t confess aloud. The part of her that wanted to hurt others got out. It was more malevolent than she anticipated. “While I don’t know if what I learned is ‘good’ exactly, I’m going to embrace it,” Siria thought.  
“We can’t all follow the ‘Harry Potter’ way, even if we all saved the Sorcerer’s Stone, beat the basilisk, and entered the Triwizard tournament,” Siria said. “There has to be a point where the road divides or why would there be others? It sounds like we’ve had our little differences, but it’s time I really find my own way.” Harry sighed. The furrow in his brow was so much like Sirius’s, she wanted to tell him, but sensed that Harry’s Sirius may not be around anymore.  
“Thank you,” Siria said with a smile, “Harry Potter, for everything you’ve done. I feel like I’ll carry a piece of you around with me forever. Good luck.”  
“There’s no Voldemort left in my world,” Harry told her.  
“There are worse things than Voldemort,” Siria said. “So, what happens to you?”  
“I’m just taking a nap,” Harry said. “I told you, time is a little different here,” he pulled on a smile that was almost familiar. “Good luck, Siria Potter-Black.”  
The snowy park blurred in a storm of mist. Then it was all gone.


	42. The Second War Begins

**The Second War Begins**   


Siria was on her back, as she had been when she first woke at the park. Voices echoed through the Atrium, more than when she let out what she thought would be her final breath. She opened her eyes to find Dumbledore’s before her. [B5, 816]  
“Are you all right, Siria?” Dumbledore asked (B5, 816). She reached up and ran her hand down her scar. It prickled like when her foot fell asleep. Siria winced as she sat up.  
“Yeah,” Siria said. “I mean, I hurt, but I’m back…” She stared at the crowd of people, which grew as the fireplaces roared with emerald flames. Behind her, were three figures. Hermione sobbed in Ron’s arms. Ron was white as a sheet as he stared at Siria, Sirius was somehow paler. She smiled at them and held up a “V” for victory. He shook his head. Sirius hugged Hermione and Ron, his face buried in Ron’s hair.  
Cornelius Fudge stumbled forward, through the crowd. A man pointed to where Voldemort stood when he struck Siria dead. “He was there!” The scarlet-robed man said. “Mr. Fudge, I swear, I saw him! A woman grabbed him and Disapparated!”  
“I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too!” Fudge shook his head. His hair was a mess and polka dotted pajamas stuck out under his robes. “Merlin’s beard— here— here!” Fudge started to ramble. Siria looked to Dumbledore. She did not come back to life for this. [B5, 817]  
Dumbledore approached the Ministry wizards as he spoke. “If you proceed downstairs into the Department of Mysteries, Cornelius,” a few of the Ministry wizards raised their wands in alarm. Fudge flinched back. “You will find several escaped Death Eaters contained in the Death Chamber, bound by an Anti-Disapparition Jinx and awaiting your decision as to what to so with them.” [B5, 817]  
“Dumbledore!” Fudge gasped and pointed. Someone may as well have slapped him. “Seize him!” Fudge said for lack of a better plan.  
“Cornelius, I am ready to fight your men— and win again,” Dumbledore said in a voice that rumbled the hall like thunder.  
“Honestly!” Siria snapped as she pulled herself to her feet. “This is the second time you’ve seen Voldemort— get over it!” She barked at Fudge’s flinch; “Voldemort is back. Voldemort has been back. I didn’t get hit with another Killing Curse for you to repeat last year!” Siria released her fists.   
Fudge stumbled over his words as he scanned the Atrium for direction. “Very well— Dawlish! Williamson!” and he gave them orders. Siria shook her head.[B5, PAGES]  
Siria headed for the crowd of her friends, as Fudge started to talk to Dumbledore. Dumbledore, however, raised a finger, which silenced Fudge, and turned to Siria. “Siria,” Dumbledore called. Siria paused, rooted to her spot midstep. She locked eyes with Ron, who nodded. Cassius shooed her back with his hand. Patricia gave Siria the most parental look of them all. Siria rolled her head as she dropped and turned on the spot.  
“Sir,” Siria said the moment Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak. “I just want to make sure everyone’s okay.”  
“I shall see to it personally,” Dumbledore told her, as he approached Siria. “Right now, I need to ensure you return safely to Hogwarts. I believe it’s time for us to speak.” Siria sighed. She opened her bag and handed him a loose button.  
“Thank you,” Dumbledore said. Siria sighed again and nodded as Dumbledore tapped the button with his wand. “Portus,” and the button glowed blue, trembled with much more noise than a box of buttons, and fell still. [B5, 818]  
“Now see here, Dumbledore,” Fudge said. “You haven’t got authorization for that Portkey.” Siria squeezed her eyes shut and opened her hand to accept the button. Fudge faltered.  
“You will give the order to remove Dolores Umbridge for Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore, “You will tell your Aurors to stop searching for my Care of Magical Creatures teacher so that he can return to work. I will give you…” Siria opened her eyes to see Dumbledore withdraw a pocket watch. “Half an hour of my time, which will be more than enough time to cover the important parts of tonight. After that, I shall need to return to my school. If you need more help from me you are, of course, more than welcome to contact me at Hogwarts. Letters addressed to the headmaster will find me.” (B5, 818-819)  
Dumbledore turned his back on the reddening Fudge. “Take this, Siria. I shall see you in half an hour,” Dumbledore said as he dropped the button into her hand. Siria handed him Sirius’s wand. She looked back to her friends, before the polished floors of the Atrium disappeared and she flew through a whirlwind of color. [B5, 819]

For thirty long, mostly quiet minutes, Siria waited in Dumbledore’s office. The portraits on the wall slowly stirred, but Siria did not have it in her to bait Phineas Nigellus. She took a seat, crossed her arms, and waited. Her body was stiff, but no longer sore, except for where the Killing Curse struck her.   
“Dumbledore thinks very highly of you,” said the corpulent red-nosed wizard on the wall, “as I’m sure you know.” Siria arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh yes. Holds you in great esteem,” he gave a small nod. [B5, 822]  
“You’ve got the wrong student,” Siria said.  
“I believe there’s only one Siria Potter,” he said.  
“You’d be surprised,” Siria said as Phineas Nigellus, to her great surprise, said “ Siria Potter-Black.” Phineas tuned away when Siria looked to him.  
The flames of the fire roared to green life, and Dumbledore stepped out of them. Siria waited out the applause from the other Headmasters. Dumbledore placed a tiny, ugly Fawkes on a tray of ashes, then took his seat.   
“Well, Siria,” Dumbledore said as a tray of cocoa and tea appeared on his desk before him. “You will be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students are going to suffer lasting damage from tonight’s events,” he said as prepared a cup of cocoa. “It seems Ms. Granger brewed an excellent batch of Felix Felicis, which Ms. Weasley was able to bring to them. Mr. Warrington alerted Marcus Flint, who I am pleased to say was with other members of the Order, who were able to come to your aid. Ms. Moon informed Professor Snape, who contacted Headquarters and sent additional aid.” He paused to offer her the cup of cocoa. Siria shook her head. [B5, PAGES]  
Dumbledore leaned back with the cup. “The injured Order members, including Sirius, have been taken to St. Mungo’s,” Dumbledore said. Siria perked up at Sirius’s name. She exhaled, long and slow as she finally sat up in her chair.  
“Okay then,” Siria said, “now, let me catch you up…” and she went off. She told him about the nightmare, the plan, its execution, the Ministry of Magic, Bellatrix Lestrange’s impersonation of Sirius, and how Siria accepted her death. Siria reached for a cup, which she took when Dumbledore nodded, and poured herself some tea, as she continued. “Harry Potter did a lot of the same things I did, but he definitely didn’t bring Voldemort back with him,” Siria finished, “I just need to make sure it worked, but,” she rubbed her scar, which felt strange. It didn’t hurt at all anymore, not even a tingle.  
“May I?” Siria asked as she withdrew her wand from her jacket. Dumbledore gestured for her to continue. “Serpensortia!” Siria said and smiled at the garden snake that appeared at her feet. “Hello,” Siria hissed.  
“Yes?” The snake hissed back. Siria smiled at it and swept it off the floor.  
“I’m sorry to have bothered you, but wanted to check something important,” Siria said.  
“Do you need me to guard the door?” the snake hissed.  
“I just wanted to make sure I could talk to you,” Siria said. The snake nodded. She took her wand to it and sent it back.  
“I am pretty sure that is my last Get Out of Death Free card,” Siria said as she placed the empty cup on Dumbledore’s tray.   
“Well, I suppose it is well past time for me to tell you what I should have in your first year,” Dumbledore said. He explained that he knew Voldemort would return and that his followers may take it upon themselves to enact their form of justice on the person that killed their master. Dumbledore reminded Siria that he left her at the Dursleys to keep her mother’s sacrificial Protection Charm in place. The moment Petunia agreed to take in her sister’s child, she sealed Lily’s blood shield. [B5, 835-836]  
“Voldemort did kill me though,” Siria said. “Is it because that’s what I wanted to happen?”  
“That I can only speculate on,” Dumbledore said. She supposed there weren’t really other cases to compare it to. Siria poured another cup of tea as he continued.  
Dumbledore spoke of how she arrived at Hogwarts in worse shape than he hoped, but alive. He told her she rose the challenge that faced her, and continued to do so in following years. Each year, he considered telling her why Voldemort came after her as a baby, but could not. Even when he told her the outcome of Voldemort’s failed attack, he could bring himself to disclose why. [B5, 837-838]  
“Voldemort tried to kill you because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth,” Dumbledore said. “A portion of the Prophecy was relayed to him, and he set out believing he was fulfilling it.” [B5, 839]  
“I’m almost surprised to hear he put stock in such things,” Siria said, as she placed the empty tea cup down to remove her jacket. “Though, I suppose he seems the delusions of grandeur type. Would it be too much to guess that Professor Trelawney made the Prophecy?”  
“You would be correct,” Dumbledore said. Siria nodded. She supposed that Hogwarts would be an ideal place to keep an eye on the prophecy maker. [B5, 840]  
“Sir,” Siria got up and hung her jacket over her arm. “With all due respect, I don’t want to hear it.”  
“Then would you return the Prophecy to the Hall?” Dumbledore asked. He eyed Siria over his half moon spectacles. She sighed and sat back down, at the edge of her chair.  
“The others might want to hear it,” Siria said. “We did put our necks out for it, in a way.”  
“Perhaps you would like to give them the full story, though I do hope you will not tell everyone,” Dumbledore said. “These things are best kept close to the vest,” and he rose.  
“Sir,” Siria said, reluctant to hear the Prophecy. “It doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?” Siria asked. “If it says Voldemort’ll kill me one day, he already has. If it says I’ll kill him, it might very well be right,” Siria said. “It might say that Hermione will drop a bridge on him or Ron will out maneuver Voldemort, and it could even say Voldemort wins and has a thousand year reign,” Siria shook her head and remembered what Ron said when they finished their Divination final. “It could say ‘die, Siria die,’ and I couldn’t care less.” [B5 , PAGES]  
Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles at her from before the Pensive. She sighed and dropped her head before she rose to meet him. With his wand, he removed a strand of silver, which he placed in the basin. Sybill Trelawney rose from the pensive, a ghostly figure. In the deep voice she used once, just once, in Siria’s third year, she spoke. [B5, 841]  
“THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES. . . BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES. . . AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK THEM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT THEY WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT. . . AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES. . . (B5, 841)”  
Slowly, Professor Trelawney faded. Siria clicked her tongue. She crossed her arms as she glared at the basin. “Well,” Siria said, “there could have been other children— Neville has the same birthday, and it’s not like defying Voldemort is particularly difficult.” Dumbledore smiled.  
“The interesting thing, Siria, is that it could have been Neville,” Dumbledore said. “It is, however, you. For Voldemort himself has ‘marked you as his equal.’ He chose you.” [B5, PAGES]  
“Well, that was rather short sighted of him, seeing as how Neville is a pureblood and there were at least two of us,” Siria said. “He should have sent someone else after each of us, at the same time, at the very least.”  
“Voldemort did not hear the entire prophecy,” Dumbledore repeated. “He had no idea that he would give you the gift of Parseltongue or access to his mind. Voldemort did not know that you would have ‘power the Dark Lord knows not’.” [B5, 842-843]  
“He could pick up a book,” Siria said as she followed Dumbledore back to his desk. “I’m not saying Korean is easy, but he could learn.”  
“That is not the power that I believe the Prophecy spoke of,” Dumbledore said. “There is a room in the Department of Mysteries that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of natures. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. It is what drove you to save Sirius tonight. The power that gave you the strength to send your friends away, when you stood a much better chance with them and had no way of knowing help would arrive in time. It is the power that runs through your veins, from your mother’s sacrifice (B5, 843-844).”  
“Love,” Siria rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t count on such a thing to save her.  
“Sir, about the Prophecy, there are some that don’t get fulfilled,” Siria said, “aren’t there?”  
“Of course,” he nodded. “There are thousands in the Hall of Prophecies that are never filled, but—” Siria shook her head and he paused. He poured himself another cup of cocoa as she spoke.  
“I’ve got this one almost worked out. He’s already killed me, but I needed to bring that piece back,” Siria said.  
“It sounds as though you have a plan in mind,” Dumbledore said while he put in a few marshmallows.  
“I do.”

Later that morning, Siria sat her History of Magic O.W.L. with her peers. Fred and George were the only ones absent, as they left for good after they and the Creevey Brothers got Umbridge and Filch out of the castle. Siria watched Neville nod off. After the exam Siria said “I didn’t come back to life for my O.W.L.s,” which got a laugh from Ron, but not Hermione.  
“If that becomes your ‘thing’, I’m going to jinx you,” Hermione said, as she opened her Daily Prophet.  
“The dementors have left Azkaban,” Hermione said with a sigh. “Dumbledore’s been reinstated, officially, and Umbridge removed. Oh!” She pointed at a line, “You’re the ‘Girl Who Lived’ again, and ‘there are rumors Potter-Black has survived a second Killing Curse from You Know Who…’.” Hermione looked to Siria and Ron. “Malfoy’s been sent to Azkaban; Bode got better and was able to point him out.”[B5, 845-846]  
“Honestly,” Siria said as she poured another glass of water, “that’s probably for the best. I think he fled at the Ministry. Dumbledore did tell me that Malfoy tried to kill him, but Fawkes ate the Curse,” she shrugged at Ron’s expression. “That’s what he said.” [B5, 815]  
“Exclusive interview with Siria Potter-Black and Cassius Warrington,” Hermione read with a scoff from behind her paper. Siria looked to Cassius, across the Great Hall. “It’s just the one from The Quibbler,” Hermione said. [B5, 847]  
“Siria,” Ron said, his fork and knife down, “would you eat something?” Siria sighed as she let her bite of pot pie fall back onto her plate.  
“I just…” Siria paused. “I want a girlfriend—” Hermione inhaled her pumpkin juice.  
Once Hermione finished coughing and Siria dabbed the sputtered juice up with a napkin, she sighed again. “So,” Ron eyed Hermione to make sure she wasn’t taking another sip, “any girl in particular?”  
“Is it bad if I say ‘no’?” Siria asked. “I mean, I know who I don’t want, and I’d be fine with a boyfriend— I want a significant other. Maddy and Patricia are so cool together, but they’re also ridiculously cute,” and Siria gestured with her fork. Maddy and Patricia sat with a quarter of a space between them, and their hands held under the table. “I want someone to be cute with, but also to hex Death Eaters with. We could plot how to take down Voldemort during the day and go on dates at night.”  
Siria stared at no one in particular across the Great Hall. Hermione and Ron stole a glance at the other, but quickly turned away. Ron’s neck went pink. “‘Suppose I can see the appeal,” he said.  
“That could be very nice,” Hermione added. She added more salad mix to Siria’s plate.  
“Ria,” Lavender whispered as she and Parvati slid down, closer. “Ria,” she waved. Siria pulled on a smile as she turned to them. Parvati had her laugh half covered, and pointed to the Slytherin table. Siria squeezed her eyes shut before she looked, to see what she expected.  
Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott glared at Siria. Reflexively, she waved a rude hand gesture, which was returned. Siria rolled her eyes and skewered her salad. She rested her elbow on the table and her head in her hand. “Glare all you want,” Sriia grumbled. “I’m right about you.”  
It was a long week to the Leaving Feast. While Siria had been fortunate enough for the school to see Voldemort’s return last year, people seemed much more willing to voice this now. Cassius, a seventh year Slytherin, had much more ease strolling the castle at his leisure. Siria felt she couldn’t take any corridor without someone exclaiming “I believed you all along!” The Daily Prophet wasn’t helping her, with their rumors of “is Siria Potter-Black The Chosen One?” Rita Skeeter, to no one’s surprise, authored the first article.  
Those rumors were why Siria decided to stay behind, despite Hermione and Ron’s offer to take the long way through a series of secret passages. Siria waited until the Gryffindor common room cleared and only a few people continued to roam the corridors. One person, who caught Siria’s eye on the Marauder's Map, was Luna Lovegood. Luna’s little dot was before one of the general notice boards. Siria checked her watch and supposed there was enough time for a little detour.  
“Oh, hello,” Luna greeted Siria with a smile when the latter opened a door pretending to be a wall.  
“Luna, the Leaving Feast is about to start,” Siria said. Luna tilted her head to the side a little, which caused the wand tucked behind her ear to shift, as she walked.  
“I know,” Luna said, “I’ve just got a few flyers to pin,” and she raised the stack of parchment in her hands.  
“On the last day of term?” Siria asked and extended one of her hands. Luna passed her a flyer as they continued toward the next notice board.  
“Yes, well, some of my things have gone missing and, as it is the last day, I would like them back,” she said as Siria read over the flyer.  
“How did you lose three pairs of shoes, two sets of robes, and what looks like half your books?” Siria asked. While Luna seemed like a bit of an airhead to Siria, she managed to keep it together at the Department of Mysteries from what the others said. [B5, 862]  
Luna pulled on a smile that was all too relatable to Siria. “People think it’s funny to hide my things,” Luna confessed. “They think I’m a little strange,” Luna looked Siria in the eye, “some of them call me ‘Loony Lovegood’, you know.” She did.  
“The next time something goes missing, would you let me know?” Siria asked.  
“I’m not worried. They’ll come back, they always do, in the end,” Luna said (B5, 863).  
“I’d just like to show whoever’s taking your things a sample of Muggle dueling,” Siria said as she handed the flyer back to Luna. “At the very least, give them a sample of the D.A.”  
“Will there be D.A. meetings next year?” Luna asked and stopped walking. Siria finished her step and turned to Luna.  
“Oh, er…” Siria had a lot of plans for her return, but that hadn’t been one.  
“If nothing else, the Sunday study group will be a thing,” she said. Luna nodded with almost expected disappointment. “But I suppose it’ll be nice to still do the D.A. We could bring back the coins, since meetings might have to be changed up, and it’ll only be me teaching,” Siria rubbed the back of her neck as she blushed at the floor. There was something about the contrast between Luna’s painfully honest smile and her previously pulled brave one that Siria couldn’t put a finger on. Luna continued and pinned up a flyer. “We should head down to the Feast,” Luna said. “I’m sure people are missing you.”  
No sooner had the Hogwarts Express rolled out of the station, Hermione’s nose was in the Daily Prophet. She sighed at the alleged Death Eater sightings outside people’s homes until the food trolly came by. When Hermione finally put the paper down, she ran her arm through Siria’s and said “It hasn’t really started yet, but it won’t be long now.” [B5, 865]  
“We’ll be okay,” Siria said. “Though not without casualties,” she remembered Harry’s words.  
“Did you see Marietta’s balaclava?” Hermione asked with a smirk that Ron and Siria matched.  
“It’ll take more than makeup to cover up that sneak’s face,” Siria said. “I’d feel sorry, but...” Siria shrugged.  
“Serves her right,” Ron said. “Can’t believe Cho Chang’s still saying you’re in the wrong.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “At least Cedric didn’t get with her again.”  
“I… heard Cho’s dating someone else,” Hermione said with a look to Ginny. Ginny met her eye. Ron asked who and Ginny replied “Michael Corner.” She rolled her eyes as she told him about how sulky Corner got when Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw and that he swept in to comfort Cho. When Ron told her he hopes she picks someone better next time, Ginny grinned “Well, I’ve chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he’s better?” [B5, 865-867]  
“What do I have to do to get a partner?” Siria asked. “I literally died!” Hermione groaned and let go of Siria’s arm to push her away.  
“Stop doing that is what,” Hermione said. Siria laughed as Hermione continued to keep her at arm’s length.  
“You’re Siria bleeding Potter-Black,” Ron said while he took another chocolate frog from their pile. “It can’t be that hard.”  
“You’d be surprised,” Ginny said. “It’s not like Siria can just accept anyone, half of them are only in it for the fame or gossip.”  
When Hermione and Siria headed back to the compartment after a trip to the toilet, Siria crashed to the floor. She exhaled slowly as she prayed for patience. “You are such a child,” Siria said while she pushed herself up and glared at Draco Malfoy, “a tripping jinx?” She stepped right up to him, and remained rooted to the spot. Crabbe and Goyle had their wands pointed at Hermione, who had hers drawn as well. The flecks of blue seemed frozen over in Malfoy’s cold silver eyes.  
“Watch yourself, Potter-Black,” Malfoy said as he flicked his wand casually. Her eyes narrowed at him.  
“You coming after me, Malfoy?” Siria asked with her hands on her hips. She tilted her head down at him.  
“I might,” he warned, but his eyes fell on the silver chain around her neck, which dangled freely over her blouse. The small goldenrod face stared back at him as Siria stepped even closer.  
“You and what army?” She asked. Siria gestured, with her eyes, to the compartments on either side. Malfoy glanced. Dumbledore’s Army members sat or stood with their wands raised, asking for him if he dare.  
“You Know Who’s,” Malfoy whispered just quiet enough for her to catch it.  
“I don’t think you will be,” Siria said and raised her mouth to a smile. “I think you want to be ‘good’.” She leaned in to whisper beside his ear “good student, good son, good person—” Malfoy pushed her away, and turned so quickly he walked into Crabbe and Goyle. Siria waved and smiled at the D.A. members, as she and Hermione continued back.  
“Dad!” Siria cried, discarded her trolly, and ran right into Sirius’s arms at King’s Cross station. He wrapped her in his arms like they were a blanket. Sirius rubbed the top of her head and laughed. Siria reached from the hug to pull Remus in. Chloe collected Siria’s trolly, as the other three hugged. With her arms on the cart, Chloe pulled out her phone and took a picture. A reminder of the small moments of happiness.  
“We’ll pick you up soon,” Sirius promised as they walked out of the station with the Weasleys, the Grangers, Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody.  
“I didn’t come back to life to go back to the Dursleys,” Siria said. Hermione knocked Siria’s arm and Siria stuck out her tongue. “Besides,” Siria said as she pulled an arm around Hermione's shoulders, “we’ve got big plans for summer,” and she met Ron’s eye.  
“Don’t know how it’ll compare to dying,” Ron said, “but I do hope it’ll be a bit better.”  
“It’s only just beginning afterall,” Siria said while they loaded their trunks into their various cars.  
“What is?” Chloe asked.  
“Summer, life, the war…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Book 5 End note  
> Siria will return in book six (Siria Potter-Black and Where the Road Divides) the week of February 3rd. The sixth book has been outlined, but, due to other commitments, I haven’t been able to make as much progress as I would have liked. In it, I’m trying out a few new things that I hope you all will enjoy. Should the obligation that is keeping me end sooner than expected, so will the break between books five and six.
> 
> A special thank you to Lady Chris, who has been a great supporter and dear friend. Your constant encouragement, enthusiasm, and kind words are worth even more than I express in our messages.
> 
> To all my readers, thank you for taking the time to try my fic out.
> 
> See you in February!  
> -Jo


End file.
